


Some Kind of Wonderful

by Dazzlious



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9276365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzlious/pseuds/Dazzlious
Summary: Already being in a Pure-blood relationship doesn’t stop Hermione from falling foul of the new marriage law introduced to combat the twin problems of Pure-blood inbreeding and the greater integration of Muggle-borns.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from JK Rowling’s fantastic books or films, I’m just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so. 
> 
> Thank you to my beta, Mamacita, for her sterling work as always.

 

‘Ah, Miss Granger. If you could just come this way, please. Everything’s ready for you. My name is Mrs Westcote and I’m your official this afternoon.’

A sombre-looking woman in a forest green robe, her dark hair tied in a tight bun, gestured to Hermione as she finished signing in at the reception desk. Hermione took a deep breath and after thanking the receptionist walked towards Mrs Westcote. The woman looked at her intently.

‘You’ve just come from school, have you?’ she asked. Hermione nodded. ‘You didn’t have time to change out of your uniform?’ The woman sounded disapproving.

‘I had to come straight from classes,’ Hermione explained. She didn’t add that she had purposely chosen to dress in her uniform to remind whoever it was she ended up paired with that she was still at school and expected to be going back there.

‘What a shame,’ the woman said as she led Hermione down the long corridor. ‘I’m sure you’d much rather be in a pretty dress for your wedding.’

‘I’m not getting married,’ Hermione said, trying hard to keep her voice calm. ‘I’m being paired.’

The woman gave a brief smile. ‘It’s the same thing, though, dear, and I’d have thought you’d want to look your best for it.’ She glanced with distaste at Hermione’s bushy hair, which looked like it had exploded after the Potions lesson she’d been in earlier that afternoon. ‘Would you like a few minutes to tidy yourself up before we go in?’

‘Why?’ Hermione asked blandly. She looked intently at the woman, who looked a little surprised at the question.

‘It’s your wedding,’ Mrs Westcote repeated.

‘I am being paired with someone with whom I may have nothing in common and who I certainly don’t want to be with,’ Hermione said coldly. ‘And if I understand this new law correctly, unlike a normal wedding, where if the relationship doesn’t work out I can get a divorce from my husband, with this pairing I will be bonded for life with no chance of escape. Why on earth, when I have no interest in or desire to be involved in this charade, should I worry about what I look like? It doesn’t matter whether my partner finds me attractive or not, just as it doesn’t matter whether I find him attractive. I am only here because I have no choice in the matter. I have no desire to turn it into something it so clearly isn’t.’

‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ Mrs Westcote said. ‘Although I think you may have misunderstood the Ministry’s intentions.’

She stopped in front of a door and waved her wand to open it, then ushered Hermione in ahead of her.

‘The Ministry uses a careful screening process to ensure the best possible matches, Miss Granger,’ Mrs Westcote continued as she walked around to sit behind the desk the room contained, indicating that Hermione should sit in one of the two chairs in front of it. ‘Whilst we are aware that it is not necessarily ideal, we try to make the process more bearable for you. For instance, you are unlikely to be paired with someone considerably older than yourself unless there is a very strong reason for that to happen, as we are aware that such age differences rarely make for a good relationship . . . especially if the male is the Pure-blood. Whoever you’ve been matched with will at least be on a par with you mentally, and it is quite likely you will discover you have quite a lot in common and share many similar interests.’

Hermione sat in the left-hand chair and looked across the desk.  ‘I had a Pure-blood boyfriend already,’ she said angrily. ‘But I’ve been paired with someone else. I don’t understand why that should be, especially as I’m still at school. Surely a far more profitable relationship would have occurred if I had been left where I was with the man I’m already with.’

Mrs Westcote opened a drawer in the desk and pulled a large folder from it. She opened the folder and looked at the contents for a few moments before looking back at Hermione.  ‘I see you were in a relationship with Ronald Weasley, Arthur’s boy.’ Hermione nodded. Mrs Westcote looked at her sympathetically. ‘I know it seems unfair to you at the moment, Miss Granger, but according to your file, your compatibility with Mr Weasley was moderate at best. As you so blithely pointed out, it is far too easy for couples to separate these days, which puts a strain on the family and any children that are conceived during the union. The new law was introduced to promote the best possible chance of strong magical children born to parents who are equally able to provide for them and raise them in an environment of love and mutual respect.’  

‘Okay, I understand that to the Ministry of Magic a pairing is better than a normal marriage, although to be honest, it seems a little dictatorial,’ Hermione said. ‘But I don’t understand why you couldn’t have paired me with Ron. Then everyone would be happy. You would get your pairing and Ron and I would get to be together.’

Mrs Westcote’s expression became condescending. ‘I know that you think you know what you want, Miss Granger. But you are only nineteen years old, and what may be appealing at your current age may not seem so in twenty years’ time. As I said before, you and Mr Weasley were only considered to be a moderate match and that was not enough for the two of you to be paired, especially when a far more suitable candidate was available.’

‘But why did it have to be now? If the point of the pairing is to produce children, couldn’t you have at least waited until I left school? I have no intention of getting pregnant for several years yet, so another year or so wouldn’t have mattered, would it?’

Mrs Westcote looked back down at the file before turning her attention to Hermione once more.

‘I don’t know if you know the history of the marriage law, Miss Granger?’ She didn’t wait for Hermione to respond. ‘After it was discovered that extensive in-breeding is causing Pure-blood children to become weaker magically, not stronger, it was decided that Pure-bloods should be encouraged to widen their gene pool. In light of recent unpleasant events, it was felt that some Pure-bloods would be averse to the idea of voluntarily entering into marriage with Muggle-borns, so the marriage law was introduced to ensure those reluctant folk would participate fully.

‘The initial enactment of the law requested that single Pure-bloods petition the Ministry for wedding contracts with Muggle-borns over the age of seventeen. However, after only a few months it became clear that unless the law was more rigorously enforced by the Ministry, there would be very little change. It was for this reason that every unmarried person over the age of seventeen was sent an extensive questionnaire to complete and the screening process was begun, using the answers provided to match compatible couples – in addition to the petitions, which are still valid. It is for this reason that we take no account of your current romantic circumstances, Miss Granger. Once a suitable match has been made, we perform the ceremony and it is then up to you and your husband to decide upon living arrangements and such.’  

‘Has it occurred to the Ministry that these Pure-bloods you’re so determined to force into marriage detest Muggle-borns and want them dead, not practising magic? It was only a year ago that the Ministry was being run by Voldemort and you were persecuting people like me, accusing us of stealing magic – and now you want to chain us to the very people who were so determined to get rid of us.’

‘You’re overreacting, Miss Granger,’ Mrs Westcote said. She had paled at the mention of Voldemort’s name. ‘The Pure-bloods who really felt that way were in a minority. And they were far older than you are, and as I’ve already explained, you wouldn’t be paired with someone like that.’

Hermione knew that wasn’t true, but it seemed there was no point in arguing about it with the Ministry official who was, it appeared, determined to see the best in everyone.

‘So what if my _husband_ won’t let me return to school?’ Hermione asked belligerently. She spat out the word husband as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.  

Mrs Westcote smiled. ‘Under the circumstances, I can’t see that being too much of a problem.’

‘Really?’ Hermione didn’t sound convinced.

‘Miss Granger, you are in a very fortunate position.’ Mrs Westcote ignored or missed the snorting sound of disbelief Hermione gave at this pronouncement. ‘In addition to a very high score between you and your match, the young man in question actually petitioned the Ministry for your hand. Either of those things would have been considered good under the circumstances, but to have both is surely an indicator of the potential for a happy and fruitful union. That he petitioned for you would mean he already knows you personally and is, therefore, aware that you are still at school.’  She smiled once again at Hermione as if this settled everything satisfactorily.

‘Who is it?’ Hermione asked her mind in a sudden frenzy. She couldn’t begin to imagine who would petition the Ministry for her. Even Ron hadn’t done that, although she had once hoped he would take the initiative and do it without her having to tell him to. Did this mysterious person think he was doing her a favour?

Mrs Westcote gave a small shrug. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have his details, dear. I just have a note saying that you have been petitioned and that the results of your screening are incredibly high.’ She looked at her watch. ‘You’ll find out shortly; he should be here in a few minutes. Now, before he arrives I need to check a few details with you to ensure everything is all correct and above board.’

‘So were we matched first, or did he make the petition and then you checked to see if we were compatible?’ Hermione asked.

Mrs Westcote thought for a moment before replying. ‘I assume they must have overlapped. Normally if someone is petitioned it is assumed the couple either already want to be together or know each other well, so matching isn’t generally taken into consideration. I can only assume the two of you had already been matched when the petition came in.’

‘Okay, I understand,’ Hermione said slowly, her voice unhappy. ‘I just wish I knew who it was.’

Mrs Westcote smiled. ‘Only a few more minutes and the waiting will be over. Now, let’s just check these details, shall we? Please confirm that your name is Hermione Jean Granger, daughter of Peter and Helen Granger, born 19 September 1979 in London, England.’

‘That’s correct,’ Hermione said.

‘I can tell you a little about the ceremony that’s about to happen,’ Mrs Westcote said. ‘In a few minutes, my colleague will escort your match into the room. At that point, we will explain to the two of you what the bonding ceremony will entail and give you both the opportunity to accept or decline the match. Once—’

‘So I can refuse to accept the match?’ Hermione said, cutting off Mrs Westcote’s speech. She sounded suddenly hopeful.

‘There is the opportunity to refuse the match; however, it would obviously incur a penalty, Miss Granger, and I think it unlikely your future husband will be so bad that you will feel the need to go down that road,’ Mrs Westcote said. ‘In the unlikely event you should choose not to accept your match, your wand will be taken from you and destroyed, and you will be exiled from the wizarding world for the rest of your life.’

Hermione looked at Mrs Westcote in horror. ‘You completely ruin someone’s life just for not wanting to be tied to someone they don’t love? That’s barbaric!’

‘Come now, Miss Granger. I’ve already explained that every effort is made to ensure the match is as suitable as is possible — certainly more suitable than those made by free choice, in many cases.’

‘And what if turns out to be unsuitable?’ Hermione said. ‘What if I’m stuck with someone I hate or someone who wants to kill me? What then? Can we at least separate?’

Mrs Westcote gave a high, tense laugh. ‘My dear Miss Granger, I really do think you are overreacting. I can assure you your future husband has no intention of killing you. I hardly think he would have petitioned for your hand, knowing that you would be bonded for life if he detested you that thoroughly. And as I said before, the matching means you are almost certain to have at the very least a high regard for each other and hopefully, after a short time together, love.’

‘But—’

‘Miss Granger.’ Mrs Westcote’s voice held more than a tinge of anger now. ‘I can assure you your husband will not attempt to kill you. As part of the ceremony a charm is placed upon you both that bonds you — literally ties you both together, as it were. Part of this bonding is a life spell, which is pretty much what you would imagine: if your partner attempts to kill you, he will suffer the same effects. The Ministry has found this to be an effective way of keeping couples living together happily.’

‘So there’s no escape,’ Hermione said bitterly.   

‘The Ministry envisages that by the time you have started a family the two of you will be happy being together.’

‘But that doesn’t always happen even with couples who are in love,’ Hermione said. ‘So why should it work with someone I don’t know, or at least not well, and might not even like?’

Mrs Westcote gave her condescending smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll learn, my dear. After all, you’ll have a lifetime to get used to it.’

There was a knock on the door. Hermione’s heart skipped a beat, then began pounding faster and her stomach was suddenly full of swirling, anxious butterflies.

‘Well, here we go,’ Mrs Westcote said, turning her smile up to full. ‘Smile, dear. You’re just about to be a bride.’

Hermione tried to smile but she wasn’t sure she succeeded, or that she wanted to. She half-turned in her chair and looked towards the door as it opened.  

She wasn’t sure who she had been expecting to see walking into the room, but Draco Malfoy most certainly wasn’t it. She looked on in shock as the unquestionably elegant tall, blond man walked across the room and took his place in the chair beside her. A short, squat, bald man with glasses, carrying a folder similar to the one on the desk, followed him into the room and joined Mrs Westcote behind the desk.

‘Hello, Hermione,’ Draco said, his voice smooth and seductive. He was smiling more widely than she had ever seen him do in all the years she had known him — an open and friendly smile, not the nasty smirk he usually wore when he was around her and her friends.

‘Draco,’ Hermione managed stiffly. Her brain was whirring at this turn of events as she tried to work out why the hell Draco Malfoy had petitioned for her.

‘Ah, so you do know each other,’ Mrs Westcote said happily. She beamed at the couple. ‘Miss Granger, this is Mr Threadwoody. He will be the one casting the bonding charm on the two of you today.’ She looked at Draco. ‘I’m Mrs Westcote, Mr Malfoy. I’m very pleased to meet you. So let’s begin, shall we?’

Hermione was having trouble coming to grips with the situation. Draco Malfoy had requested that she marry him, and he was sitting next to her looking as if this was the best moment of his life. She had no idea what was going on, but there was definitely something wrong about all this. Perhaps he didn’t know about the life spell and was expecting to marry her, then kill her — or maybe his father would do it. It wouldn’t have been the first time Lucius had tried.

‘I’m afraid Miss Granger had to come straight from school and didn’t have time to change,’ Mrs Westcote explained apologetically to Draco. ‘Otherwise, I’m sure she’d have looked prettier for you.’

Hermione scowled at both the comment and the woman who had made it. How dare the woman make excuses for her? That was a good point, though: what was Draco doing all dressed up? He had come from Hogwarts too, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t known who he was being paired with.

‘It doesn’t matter. Hermione looks beautiful in whatever she’s wearing,’ Draco said.

Mrs Westcote and Mr Threadwoody smiled approvingly. Hermione looked at Draco in astonishment. What on earth had happened to him? The obnoxious Draco Malfoy she knew and hated so much seemed to have been replaced by a pleasant and friendly clone.

Since they had returned to school Hermione hadn’t really taken much notice of Draco, although they still shared most of the same classes. Without Ron and Harry there it seemed Draco had little interest in confronting her and in the new era after Voldemort’s defeat he would have given himself a world of grief if he had called her a Mudblood, as he always had before, so it appeared he had just chosen instead to pretend she didn’t exist. This had been good for Hermione, as she could then do the same. So just what was going on?

‘We are here at the Ministry of Magic on 26 February 1999 to perform the life bonding ceremony between Mr Draco Lucius Malfoy and Miss Hermione Jean Granger,’ Mrs Westcote intoned. ‘Attending are Mrs Vera Elizabeth Westcote and Mr Raymond Radagast Threadwoody on behalf of the Ministry of Magic. Mr Threadwoody will explain what the ceremony entails, and I will then ask both the participants to confirm that they agree to the bonding.’ She nodded at Mr Threadwoody.

‘The bonding ceremony will take place in three stages,’ Mr Threadwoody announced, his voice as solemn as Mrs Westcote’s. ‘The first is the agreement of both parties to the bonding; the second is the casting of the bonding spell that will join the couple together. During the spell-casting a life spell will be introduced to ensure the safety of both partners during their future union.’

Hermione glanced at Draco at these words to see if he was surprised, but it appeared he either already knew about the life spell or he didn’t care, as he was sitting perfectly comfortably and the smile he was still wearing didn’t leave his face. Mr Threadwoody indicated a pair of plain silver rings which Mrs Westcote had just put on the desk. They rested on a black velvet cushion.

‘The third part will be the exchanging of rings, which is the physical representation of the bond that has been undertaken.’

‘I’ve brought our own rings,’ Draco announced as he dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box. He opened the box and slid it across the desk towards the Ministry officials.

Hermione could see that unlike the Ministry rings, the ones Draco had provided were gold. They also appeared to be engraved in some way. She watched as Mr Threadwoody took both the rings from the box and examined them closely, whispering an incantation over them as he did so. She assumed he was checking to make sure there was no jinx on them. Finally satisfied, he smiled and placed the rings on the velvet cushion in place of the silver ones, which Mrs Westcote put back into her drawer.

‘They are beautiful,’ he acknowledged to Draco, who smiled once again.

Mrs Westcote cleared her throat, then glanced down at the folder in front of her. She looked up at Draco.  ‘Draco Lucius Malfoy, you have petitioned for the hand of Hermione Jean Granger in accordance with Ministry of Magic Decree Number Twenty-Nine. Do you accept the terms of the bonding as they have been explained to you, in the sure and certain knowledge that you will be expected to honour and protect your wife for as long as you both shall live?’

‘I accept,’ Draco said immediately.

‘Hermione Jean Granger, you have been petitioned by Draco Lucius Malfoy in accordance with Ministry of Magic Decree Number Twenty-Nine. Do you accept the terms of the bonding as they have been explained to you, in the sure and certain knowledge that you will be expected to honour and protect your husband for as long as you both shall live?’

Hermione didn’t say anything for a moment. If she said yes, she was destined to spend the rest of her life stuck with a man who had always detested her as much as she hated him — not exactly happy ever after. But if she said no she would be expelled from the wizarding world, never to see any of her friends ever again. She looked at Draco, trying to work out what the look on his face meant. He wasn’t smiling any longer. Was he hoping _she_ would say no? Was his plan to get her, the Muggle-born who he didn’t even think should have magic, out of his world? But there really was no choice. Unpalatable as it was, she had to agree because there was no way she was giving up her rightful place in the wizarding world.

‘Miss Granger, I need your answer,’ Mrs Westcote said a little anxiously.

Hermione looked back at the woman.  ‘I agree,’ she said her voice clearer and steadier than she had expected.

She heard Draco sigh. Was it with relief? She turned and saw that he was smiling again now. Had he actually been worried she would say no? But that made no sense at all.

Mr Threadwoody asked Draco and Hermione to join hands over the desk. Once they had, he began to wave his wand, casting intricate spells in a sing-song voice. They watched with interest as strands of golden light left the wand, curling and wrapping around their hands and binding the two of them together. At one point a green strand was interwoven amongst the gold; Hermione assumed it was the life spell. Five minutes later the threads had disappeared, the bond between them now invisible.    

The rings had been spelled, too — to what effect Hermione wasn’t sure, but the inscriptions gleamed with golden fire as Mr Threadwoody’s wand waved over them. The fire died but the rings still glittered, breathtaking in their beauty. Mesmerised by the sight, Hermione realised with a start that Draco was sliding one of the rings onto her finger. She looked at him and seeing his smiling face she knew that she, too, should be smiling, that this should be the happiest moment of her life. But somehow it didn’t seem real. Then Mr Threadwoody was giving her the other ring and she was placing it on Draco’s finger. As if from a distance she heard Mrs Westcote and Mr Threadwoody congratulating them both on their marriage. She felt faint and her head was swimming.

Draco grabbed Hermione, pulled her close, and kissed her passionately, his tongue pressing through her lips and into her mouth before she had a chance to protest. Unwilling to kiss him, even if he was now her husband, she managed to pull away from him and out of his grasp.   

‘Yes!’ Draco punched the air in jubilation.

Hermione looked at him in astonishment. The kiss had been completely unexpected and had quite shocked her, as did his reaction. ‘What on earth is going on?’ she asked. She moved away as Draco tried to take hold of her again.

‘We’re married,’ Draco said. He sounded ecstatic.

‘I know, but why the—’ She mimed an echo of his fist-punch.

Draco, having tried to grab Hermione once again and failing, instead took hold of her hands as he looked at her. ‘Because you’re mine — at last.’

‘What do you mean?’ Hermione said. She was confused . . . and a little scared by Draco’s reaction.

‘Do you know how brilliant this is?’ Draco asked her. He pulled her hands to his lips and kissed each one of them in turn. ‘You’re my wife and there’s absolutely nothing my father can do about it,’ he said jubilantly. ‘Not a bloody thing!’

‘I don’t understand why you’re so happy about this,’ Hermione said.

‘Because I’m completely and utterly in love with you,’ Draco said as if it was obvious. ‘And now you’re my wife.’

Hermione knew she was gaping at Draco’s pronouncement but could do nothing to stop it.  ‘What are you talking about, Malfoy?’ she asked, irritated now. ‘You’ve always hated me, just as I hate you.’

Draco was shaking his head. ‘No, I love you — _Mrs_ _Malfoy_.’

He tried to pull Hermione back towards him but she broke away, annoyed at his stupid act. She didn’t know what he was playing at, but whatever it was she wasn’t going to put up with it. She was going back to school, and as far as she was concerned he could stay right away from her until the school year ended. Only then would she have to think about what to do in the future.

‘I’m not joking, Hermione,’ Draco said. ‘I really do love you.’

‘I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m really not that stupid,’ Hermione said angrily. ‘I’m going back to school.’ She looked at the Ministry officials, who were watching the exchange in confusion.  ‘I would say thanks, but I don’t think you’ve improved my life,’ she told them bluntly. ‘Now I’m stuck with my worst enemy until I die.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘I’m going now.’

‘But the rings,’ Mr Threadwoody said, looking surprised. ‘The rings—’

But Hermione had turned away, heading for the door, and didn’t hear him.

Draco looked at the officials. ‘I really do love her,’ he told them.

Mr Threadwoody nodded. ‘I know that,’ he said solemnly. ‘Good luck, Mr Malfoy. I think you’re going to need it.’

Draco looked at the open door that Hermione had just passed through and sighed. ‘I think you might be right,’ he said as he, too, headed for the door, waving as he went.


	2. Chapter 2

When she arrived back at Hogwarts, Hermione headed straight for Gryffindor Tower. She had no intention of talking to Draco until she had absolutely no choice. She still had no idea why he had chosen to petition for her, but she couldn’t believe his assertion that he was in love with her. It just didn’t make sense. There had to be another reason. She threw herself onto the bed and lay back, trying to think whether there had ever been any single time in all the years she had known Draco when he had ever shown any sign of anything other than hatred and disdain for her.

She couldn’t think of a single one. From the first time they had met Draco had been nothing but unpleasant to her and her friends. His family had been even worse. All staunch supporters of Voldemort and fully subscribed to the worst Pure-blood ideals, they had brought Draco up to believe in the same wicked and racist beliefs they did. He had taken every opportunity over the years to let her know that regardless of how good at magic she was — and she had always been better than him — in his eyes she would never be anything but an interloper in the wizarding world. And just to ensure she got the message he had called her Mudblood, the worst insult he could possibly use against her.

She looked at her watch. It was time for dinner but she wasn’t feeling very hungry. She wondered if she would be able to get away without going down to the Great Hall but knew it wasn’t worth the trouble she would get into for not attending the meal. Anyway, she couldn’t stay locked up in Gryffindor Tower for the rest of the year.

With a sigh she pulled herself up off the bed and went to the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. Her hair looked just as awful as usual. She ran a brush through it, although she wasn’t sure it made much difference. She remembered Draco’s comment at the Ministry about how she looked beautiful and she snorted. Gods, he had spouted some absolute crap during the ceremony. He hated her hair as much as she did. He had mentioned it on more than one occasion in the past and after all, she had really not made any effort that afternoon. Her hair looked a fright after two hours over a steaming cauldron in Potions. She put down the brush and left the bathroom.

Hopefully, she could get into the Great Hall for dinner and back out without having to face Draco. She would be safe during the meal as they had to sit at their House tables, but if she planned it right she could escape while Draco was still eating and get back to the common room and safety for the night.

But it didn’t happen. Draco was waiting outside the Great Hall for Hermione to arrive and insisted on accompanying her into the dining room. Although they sat at their own tables during the meal, Hermione wasn’t able to leave without further contact as Draco watched her like a hawk and rose the moment she did, effortlessly cutting her off at the door before she could escape.

‘You’ve been hiding from me,’ he said accusingly as he steered her out of the door and down one of the corridors.

‘Where are we going?’ Hermione asked. She tried to slow down but Draco — who, it turned out, was much stronger than he looked — was holding onto her and pulling her along with him.

‘Somewhere we can be alone for a while,’ Draco said, the arousal evident in his voice.

‘But I don’t want to be alone,’ Hermione said, worried now. ‘We don’t _need_ to be alone.’

Draco opened the door of an empty classroom and pulled Hermione inside and shut the door behind them. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him. Hermione could feel her heart thudding.

That wasn’t all she could feel.

‘Now that we’re finally married we need to consummate it,’ Draco told her, his voice husky with desire. ‘I’ve wanted this with you for so long, my love.’

‘Please, Draco, I’m not ready for this,’ Hermione said. She tried to pull out of his arms but he wasn’t inclined to release her. Then, more desperately, she added, ‘I don’t want to do anything in here. Please, it’s just a deserted classroom.’

‘I know it’s not ideal,’ Draco said. ‘I’d much rather we were in bed, too, but that’s not possible tonight with us being in separate Houses, so this will have to do. I’m sure we can make the best of it.’

Hermione shook her head and squirmed again. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ she repeated unhappily. ‘Not now. I just can’t.’

Draco gave a throaty laugh. ‘You’re just a little nervous, my love. That’s understandable.’ He ran his hand gently down her cheek. ‘It’s going to be wonderful,’ he assured her. ‘I promise.’

Hermione was mesmerised for a moment as his lips captured hers, the whisper-soft kiss turning harder and more forceful. As the kiss continued Draco loosened his grip on her and one of his hands started running through her hair and stroking the nape of her neck, causing Hermione to shiver.

She had to stop this.

As the kiss began to turn into a second, Hermione pulled back, this time succeeding in moving out of Draco’s arms. She looked at him, her eyes filled with tears.  ‘I’m sorry Draco, I can’t do this . . . I just can’t,’ she whispered.

And before Draco had a chance to stop her she ran to the door, opened it, and fled back down the hall.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘I wonder if I could have a word with you, Miss Granger,’ Professor McGonagall said.  

Hermione was surprised to see the Headmistress in the Gryffindor common room, but she supposed that if the teacher wanted to talk to her she didn’t really have any choice but to come to where Hermione was hiding out, still evading Draco. The only time she had left the confines of Gryffindor Tower over the previous twenty-four hours had been for meals and she had taken them as quickly as possible, always making sure she didn’t leave the table alone, not wanting to end up in another argument with Draco over their conjugal arrangements. 

Hermione put the book she was reading onto the table and looked expectantly at Professor McGonagall, who had joined her on the sofa. She noticed that the area they were occupying had suddenly become emptier as the other Gryffindors found things to do that didn’t involve being near the Headmistress.     

‘I understand that congratulations are in order, Miss Granger — or should I say Mrs Malfoy?’ Professor McGonagall’s voice betrayed nothing, but she looked at Hermione sympathetically.

Hermione looked back at her balefully. ‘I’m not sure congratulations is the right word, Professor,’ she said. ‘You know as well as I do that Draco and I have never got along.’

Professor McGonagall sighed. ‘I have to admit that when I heard about the match I did wonder whether the Ministry had made a mistake in this instance. After all, I’m sure the animosity between you and the Malfoy family has been well documented over the years, and plenty of people at the Ministry would have been aware of it. It seemed to me it was also rather a strange pairing considering your ongoing relationship with Mr Weasley, who is also a Pure-blood, although of course you and Mr Malfoy are very closely matched both intellectually and in terms of magical ability.’

‘It wasn’t really the Ministry,’ Hermione said bitterly. Professor McGonagall looked surprised. ‘They did match us, Draco and me, but apparently, he had already petitioned to marry me anyway, and once that happened they weren’t really bothered whether we were suited or not. Any other relationship I may have already been in was automatically discounted.’

‘Mr Malfoy petitioned for you to marry him,’ Professor McGonagall repeated. ‘Why on earth would he have done that? That’s certainly very suspicious behaviour considering his family’s Pure-blood ideals.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘He told me he loves me. That he’s been in love with me for years.’ She gave a small, harsh laugh. ‘Like I believe that. He might just as well have told me his father was in love with me — it’s about as likely.’

Professor McGonagall frowned. ‘I have never got the impression that Mr Malfoy cares for you in any way, not over the last few months and certainly not in your younger years. Whilst I understand that his earlier animosity was also directed at Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, I think it is safe to say that Mr Malfoy has made his feelings towards you perfectly clear on many occasions.’ She sighed again. ‘Although I suppose a declaration of love would account for his actions earlier today.’

‘His actions?’ Hermione asked. She wondered what Draco had been up to while she had been hiding away in the common room.

‘Mr Malfoy came to see me earlier today to request that you be moved from Gryffindor Tower.’

‘What? You’ve got to be kidding,’ Hermione railed. ‘Where does he want me to go, Slytherin?’

Professor McGonagall shook her head. ‘No. He has requested that we provide a room you can both share outside of your Houses. He pointed out that as married adults you are legally quite entitled to share a bed and he is keen for that to happen at the earliest opportunity.’ 

‘I hope you told him no,’ Hermione said. ‘It was very presumptuous of him to assume I would want something like, regardless of whether it's legal or not.’

‘I am not sure Mr Malfoy is interested in what you want,’ Professor McGonagall said honestly. ‘I explained to him that I felt it would be better if the two of you remained where you are while you are at school; after all, I think we are all aware there are plenty of places within Hogwarts where some intimacy could take place between you if desired. However, Mr Malfoy is strongly of the opinion that as a married couple you should be sharing a bed rather than sleeping alone at night and he informed me that should I choose not to honour his request, you and he would be leaving the school.’

‘He said what?’ Hermione said indignantly. She looked furious. ‘How dare he say something like that just because we’re married? He has absolutely no say in whether I leave Hogwarts or not. And I refuse to spend my nights with him just because he thinks we should. I have absolutely no intention of leaving either Gryffindor or Hogwarts, and you can tell him that officially.’

‘I did tell Mr Malfoy that any room changes would be subject to agreement from both of you regardless of legal right,’ Professor McGonagall said. ‘I thought it unlikely that you would want to move, but I had a duty to ask as the two of you are married. I am sure you understand.’ Hermione nodded. ‘Mr Malfoy has also requested that in future you be referred to in classes by your married name rather than your maiden name. It appears he is quite keen for everyone to be aware of your relationship.’

Hermione shook her head in agitation. ‘That’s ridiculous. There is absolutely no reason for me to change my name. There are only another four months of school left, so it can stay as it is.’ She sighed, then added, ‘I’m sorry Professor, I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with Draco. I just wish I knew what on earth he’s up to.’

‘I have no doubt we will discover the reason for that eventually, Miss Granger,’ Professor McGonagall said. ‘I just hope it isn’t anything nefarious.’

‘You and me both,’ Hermione said unhappily.

‘Well, I shall leave you to it. I understand you are trying to avoid your husband, but perhaps you would be better off talking to him. I believe it is going to be a dry if somewhat cold day tomorrow. Perhaps the two of you could take a walk around the lake and discuss what inspired his petition.’ Professor McGonagall stood up. ‘Remember, classes start again on Monday, Miss Granger, and you won’t be able to hide away in Gryffindor Tower all day then.’

Hermione didn’t say anything, just watched as the Headmistress walked back towards the portrait hole.  She sighed and picking up her book again stood, then headed towards the stairs to the girls’ dormitories. Draco had really pissed her off with his actions and although she had a horrid feeling she wasn’t going to be able to get to sleep, she couldn’t face staying in the common room with its happy, carefree denizens any longer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘I want to talk to you,’ Draco told Hermione.

He had once again cut off her exit from the Great Hall where they had just been having breakfast. Completely ignoring the friends she was using as a shield against him, he took hold of her arm to make sure she couldn’t escape, then led her out of the room. Hermione hoped there weren’t too many people watching them.

‘I need to go to the Library,’ she said.

‘It’s Sunday, Hermione. There’s absolutely no reason for you to go to the Library except to hide from me,’ Draco said sharply, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

Hermione didn’t answer but she glared at him. Of course she wanted to hide from him. She didn’t want anything to do with him and after her conversation with Professor McGonagall, she hated him more than ever. She still hadn’t been able to work out why Draco wanted to marry her, but his demands were untenable as far as she was concerned.

‘We don’t have anything to talk about.’

Draco snorted in disbelief. ‘Nothing to talk about? I haven’t managed to get two words out of you since the wedding. Every time I try and come near you, you run away and hide in that bloody common room of yours. We’ve got things to sort out, Hermione and I think I’ve been patient enough with you. Now, come on.’ Still holding Hermione’s arm, he pulled her roughly down the stairs and out of the castle.

Once they were out of the door she shrugged him off.  ‘It’s cold out here,’ she complained. ‘And I don’t know what you want to talk about. We’re married because, let’s face it, neither of us wanted to leave the wizarding world so we had no other choice — although I still don’t understand why you put in the petition.’  She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep out the cold. Draco went to put his arms around her but she moved away from him, shaking her head.

‘I just can’t believe you,’ Hermione said. She glared angrily at Draco. ‘You went to see Professor McGonagall.’

Draco shrugged. ‘Of course I did. She’s the one who makes the sleeping arrangements.’

‘Well, I told her I wasn’t moving. I’m perfectly happy with things the way they are.’

‘But I’m not,’ Draco said. ‘You’re my wife, Hermione and I want to sleep with you. And that’s not going to happen while you’re tucked away in Gryffindor Tower. I already have enough bloody trouble just trying to talk to you, let alone get you anywhere near a bed.’

‘That’s because I don’t want to sleep with you,’ Hermione said bluntly. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that would come as too much of a shock to you under the circumstances, Draco.’

‘We’re going to have to consummate the marriage at some point,’ Draco said, trying to stay reasonable, although he felt anything but at that moment.

‘But I don’t see why it has to be now,’ Hermione insisted. ‘We should be concentrating on school. We’ve got our N.E.W.T.s coming up in only a few months.’ Draco rolled his eyes. ‘We’ll have plenty of time for the other stuff,’ Hermione said unhappily. ‘After all, we’re stuck with each other for the next god knows how many years.’

‘But I don’t want to wait, my love. I want you now,’ Draco said, ‘and I don’t see how us sharing a bed is going to give us problems with our exams.’

Hermione shook her head, her face like thunder. ‘Professor McGonagall told me you threatened that if she didn’t do as you asked, _WE_ would be leaving the school.’ She didn’t wait for Draco to respond. ‘Whilst we may _technically_ be married, you are not my master. And you have no say over what I will or will not do. I have absolutely no intention of leaving Hogwarts until the end of the school year and you can’t make me do otherwise.’

Draco looked at Hermione for a moment, a sly smirk crossing his face. ‘Actually, that’s where you’re wrong, my love. You obviously didn’t bother to check into the small print of the Ministry’s bonding ceremony.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘I know what it said — and there was nothing about me having to do what you say.’

Draco chuckled. ‘As I said, you obviously didn’t check it properly. The wizarding world is still somewhat old-fashioned in its outlook with regard to marriage, especially where Pure-bloods are concerned.’

‘But this was a Ministry-approved bonding,’ Hermione pointed out, ‘not some traditional Pure-blood wedding.’

Draco nodded. ‘But who do you think wrote the ceremony? Although we wizards love women, we don’t trust them, especially those who have great magical abilities. People think this Ministry ceremony is something new, but really it’s just a cleverly reworded version of the original bonding ceremony. If you had actually bothered to discover exactly what Mr Threadwoody was saying whilst he was casting all those spells, you would have known you were agreeing to submit to my will on all things. You _belong_ to me, Hermione, however equal the partnership may appear to be on the outside and at the end of the day you will do as I say, whether you like it or not.’

Hermione scowled. She was annoyed, but with herself even more than with Draco. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t bothered to check out the meanings of the incantations used in the bonding ceremony. Why hadn’t she? Normally she would have researched the thing so thoroughly she could have conducted the ceremony herself, but for some reason, she hadn’t done that this time. And now she was going to pay for her stupidity.

It was denial, she realised. She had been so upset when she had received her letter from the Ministry announcing her forthcoming bonding that she hadn’t seen any further than that. Because she kept hoping it was a mistake or that she would find some way out of the match, she had concentrated only on that, not bothering to discover what she would actually be letting herself in for if the ceremony went ahead. Draco was right. She had assumed, just as many others would, that because it was part of the new Ministry law the ceremony, too, would be new. She had been completely foolish.

Draco took her hand and stroked it gently. Hermione wanted to pull away but he was holding on to it too tightly.

Was this the reason Draco had been so eager to marry her and had petitioned for her hand? Had he been counting on the fact that she wouldn’t know what the bonding ceremony did? With Hermione subjugated to his will, he could order her to do anything and she had no choice but to obey him. The things he could do to humiliate or torment her were too numerous and distressing to even consider, but of course, it was the perfect way for the bitter Pure-blood to torture his most despised enemy — and to do so quite legally, without any worry about being punished for his actions. With just a few words Draco had the power to make the rest of her life a living hell. She realised with a start that this was probably why the life charm had been added to the bonding ceremony. How many witches had died because of having to obey their Pure-blood husbands’ commands?

Hermione felt her blood run cold. The worst thing was that she’d had no choice. She wouldn’t have been able to reject the match even if she had known what she was agreeing to. There was no way she wanted to leave the wizarding world forever, so perhaps it had been a good thing she hadn’t known beforehand. But if she had known, instead of rejecting the match would she have been able to get the words changed so their marriage would be on a more equal footing? Too late to think of it now, but it might have been a possibility and would have changed everything.

What would Draco have done under those circumstances? Hermione wondered. Would he have withdrawn his petition to marry her, or would that be considered rejection? She was sure that whatever happened, Draco would be as unwilling as she to give up his place in the wizarding world. But that brought her right back to square one.

‘So what happens if I refuse to obey you?’ Hermione asked. ‘Do I get dragged off to Azkaban or something?’ She couldn’t believe that would really be the case, but with the vagaries of wizarding law, you never knew.

Draco snorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Hermione. It would be for me to make the decision what was to happen to you. I would be quite within my rights to punish you in any way I saw fit.’ Draco looked at her salaciously, his voice becoming more seductive. ‘And as much as I’d enjoy that, I really don’t think you want me punishing you, my love.’

‘Stop calling me that,’ Hermione said tetchily. ‘I’ve worked it out now, so you don’t have to pretend any longer.’

‘Worked what out?’ Draco asked.

‘Why you married me.’

‘I’ve already told you why I married you,’ Draco said.

‘I know what you said,’ Hermione retorted, ‘but I also know that’s rubbish. And now you’ve told me about this obeying thing it all makes sense — unfortunately.’

Draco looked confused. ‘I’ve absolutely no idea what you think I’ve done, Hermione. I married you because I’m in love with you and I wanted you to be my wife. To be honest, I wasn’t anticipating a huge problem with the whole obeying thing. I assumed you would have researched the law and its ceremony thoroughly like you always do. Why didn’t you?’

Hermione shook her head, not wanting to answer. She didn’t want to admit her failure or the weakness that had caused it.  ‘I’m not leaving Hogwarts,’ she said quietly.

‘I know,’ Draco said sounding perfectly reasonable. He was still stroking her hand.

‘And I’m not sharing a room with you, either.’ Hermione’s face was set, although it looked to Draco as if she was about to cry. He studied her for a moment, then sighed.

‘All right, we’ll leave that for the time being, too. But eventually you’re going to have to accept that we’re married, you know.’

‘I know we’re married,’ Hermione said unhappily. ‘I just don’t understand why.’

‘I’ve told you again and again. I’m in love with you. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to convince you of that,’ Draco said.

Hermione shrugged. ‘It’s going to be pretty hard, to be honest. After all, you’ve been nothing but unpleasant, at best, to me ever since the first time I met you. And now you just expect me to accept that you’re in love with me. Sorry, Draco, but I’m really not that gullible.’

Draco, who had still been holding Hermione’s hand, pulled her to him and wrapped his arms tightly around her before she had a chance to react.  ‘Let me show you,’ he whispered as he swooped in and his mouth found hers.

For a few minutes they stayed that way, until Hermione began to squirm once more, pulling away from Draco and looking at him in surprise. Totally different from any other kiss she had ever experienced, including the two previous kisses Draco had given her, this one had been strange and she didn’t know how to feel about it. She had to get away.

‘I’m not changing my name in classes, either,’ she told Draco, who seemed a little surprised that the kiss had finished. ‘It will just confuse the teachers this close to the end of school. Now, I really do have to go to the Library.’ She needed to get away before she started crying; she was unable to understand her emotions and what Draco was doing to them.

Draco grabbed hold of her hand again. ‘Please don’t go, love — don’t run away from me.’

Hermione looked at Draco sadly. ‘I can’t do this,’ she whispered, pulling her hand from his. ‘I’m sorry.’ Without another word she ran up the stairs, back towards the door of the castle. 

‘You can’t hide in the Library forever, Hermione,’ Draco called after her. ‘And when you come out you really will have to face up to the fact that we’re married.’


	3. Chapter 3

Draco sat on the bed looking at the stack of diaries he had pulled from his trunk. He had never expected to show them to anyone. Not for him the urge to share their contents. They were his private and most deeply personal feelings and they were definitely not for general consumption, containing as they did every thought he had ever had over the six years he had spent at Hogwarts before leaving with Snape on that awful night almost two years ago.

Every bad thing he had ever thought, every nasty thing he had ever done, all these were contained within the pages of his journals, written down for posterity. But so, too, were his true feelings for Hermione. His diaries had been the one place he could be honest about his love for the Muggle-born witch, his only relief from the pain he felt at being a blood traitor. His desire for her had seemed so wrong at the time that he had often had a difficult time writing about it, especially when he had done something particularly nasty to her, something he often did purely to punish himself for being so weak as to be in love with her. But there had been no one he could confide in, and his diaries had given him a way to offload his feelings before he did something stupid like tell her how he really felt about her.

If his father had ever found the diaries, had ever looked at what his son had written, he would have disowned him immediately, at the very least; but Draco had kept them well hidden and he didn’t think his father even knew he still kept a diary, let alone wrote in it regularly. Neither did anyone else. Draco had always guarded his writing time jealously, sure that if his friends had discovered what he was doing they would be disapproving, or worse, would want to see what he had written.

Six books lay on the bed, all but one looking almost brand new. Six years of precious memories and the confession of his love for Hermione. He stroked the top book in the pile as he debated. Hermione had been right when she said that during their entire time at school he had never once been even pleasant to her, and he could completely understand her mistrust of him and his assertion that he was in love with her.

He was positive that given enough time he could eventually convince his new wife that his feelings for her were true, but he was impatient. Now that Hermione was finally his he wanted the physical intimacy he had been dreaming of for years and as things stood now that wasn’t going to happen overnight. She wasn’t willing to consummate the marriage yet, and although he could have forced her to give herself to him — she was his wife and had to obey him, or so the bonding ceremony had said — he didn’t want their union to begin that way.

If he gave Hermione his diaries to read she would see for herself just how much he adored her, would learn just how long he had been in love with his brilliant, beautiful wife. But it would also expose her to every single facet of his being. He would have no secrets from her and she would be able to use that knowledge and power to control him. She would know his reasoning for every nasty thing he had ever said or done, and some of it really didn’t make him look good when he thought back on it.

He sighed deeply, stroking his chin with one hand as he weighed the choices. Without the diaries, convincing Hermione of his sincerity would be a long, slow, drawn-out process during which, if what he had already experienced was anything to go by, he would be lucky if he was even allowed to kiss her, let alone get his hands anywhere near her luscious body. At the very least the diaries would speed up the process and if he was really lucky they might even get her into his bed within days or maybe weeks rather than months.

Draco scooped up one of the journals and headed for the Library, where he was sure Hermione had taken refuge. Sure enough, Hermione was sitting at a table in the far corner of the room, surrounded by a pile of large and boring-looking books. Draco looked around for Madam Pince. It always helped to know where she was, especially if you were going to do something she considered heinous, such as talking in the Library. On the bright side, he and Hermione appeared to be the only people there, not really a surprise as it was the weekend, but Madam Pince was on the prowl and was already watching him suspiciously as he headed towards Hermione.

‘Here,’ Draco said, holding out the pristine-looking black leather-bound journal. He looked a little apprehensive.

‘What’s that?’ Hermione asked.

‘You want proof that I’m in love with you. It’s in there, at least the start of it is,’ Draco said quietly.

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise but took the journal from Draco and turned it over in her hands to study it.

‘It’s one of my diaries,’ Draco explained. ‘I didn’t bother giving you the first year. You were an annoying bint then and I thoroughly detested you, as did most of the school, as I recall. But even by our second year I was revising my opinion of you, was beginning to realise that there was something about you. It’s all in there if you care to read about it.’

Hermione bristled at his candid comment but then looked at the diary, noting the embossed crest on the cover of the obviously expensive book. For a moment Draco thought she was going to refuse to read it, but then she gave a small nod. He realised he had been holding his breath. He could see Madam Pince getting ready to descend upon them.

‘I’ll let you read it in peace,’ he said quickly. ‘It shouldn’t take you long. It’s not exactly a masterpiece, just the scrawling of a twelve-year-old boy. I’ll come back in an hour or so with the next one.’

Leaving Hermione in the Library, Draco made his way slowly back to his bedroom. He was already beginning to regret having given her the diary. What if she didn’t understand what he had written? He hadn’t re-read his journals but he was sure he had been legible and succinct, even at that age. He just hoped his memory was right. He looked at the pile of journals still on his bed and picked up the one from his first year, opening it and flicking through the pages.

His handwriting was legible, at least, although completely different from his current style. He looked at the entry before him. He had written something rather dull about how stupid Crabbe and Goyle were; had he really needed to record that? And a complaint about Pansy Parkinson and what a bore she was, mooning over him all the time. That was interesting. Even in his first year, when Hermione had been nothing more than the know-it-all Mudblood everyone hated, he had still made reference to preferring her to Parkinson, even though Hermione’s blood status made her persona non grata in his world. The following day’s entry was a long rant about Potter and Weasley and what a pair of prats they were. He smiled. Nothing had changed there, then; he still thought they were prats.

As he had told Hermione, the prose wasn’t award-winning, but assuming he had continued in the same vein as this diary, it was at least readable. And there would be some good stuff in amongst the bad. He remembered his guilt after he had blithely announced that he hoped Hermione would be the one to die after the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. It had sounded right at the time and had given his Slytherin colleagues a laugh, but a tiny part of him that he had tried desperately to ignore had told him he didn’t really want that at all and he was being incredibly mean by saying it.

He remembered trying to convince himself that he was mean, as mean as the trio had always accused him of being, but it hadn’t worked. Whatever he personally thought of the Mudblood, the name by which he always referred to Hermione in his diaries, he didn’t really want her dead. In fact, the idea of her not being around any longer, annoying as she was, left him with a slightly hollow feeling that he couldn’t quite work out, and not even writing it down had managed to clarify it for him.

And then it had happened. Not Hermione’s death, thank Merlin, but she had been attacked by whatever the monster was that was living in the Chamber of Secrets and had been Petrified. He remembered how, when he had first heard about it, he had laughed as loud and hard as the other Slytherins and added that he was disappointed that her demise had not been forthcoming, causing the Weasel to rail as he always did. Inside, though, Draco had been a seething mass of emotions: loathing for himself at what he was saying publicly; horror at the fact that Hermione had been attacked, almost as if his pronouncement had caused it; and disgust at the fact that he cared one way or another. He still remembered the amount of time he had spent that day writing that entry, trying to put into words the huge turmoil that was roiling around inside of him.

It was about that time he had realised how much he looked at Hermione. It was hard not to, of course. Slytherins shared most of their classes with the Gryffindors, and the bloody know-it-all was always there, sticking up her hand or offering some unwanted piece of information. But after she had been Petrified, suddenly all their classes had seemed that much duller. He had lost count of the number of times he had turned to look at her seat only to find it empty, and Potty and the Weasel looking as miserable as Draco felt. He had dedicated several days’ worth of writing to debating why it was he couldn’t stop looking for her.

Closing the first year’s diary, he dropped it back into his trunk and moved back to the bed to pick up the next book in the pile. He looked at his watch. It hadn’t been an hour yet, but he was feeling restless, unable to settle until he saw Hermione’s reaction to him in light of the revelations of his diary. He had to go back to the Library.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was making great headway with Draco’s diary. She had always been a fast reader anyway, but this was the ultimate in light reading, especially after the Ancient Runes book she had been attempting to decipher before Draco had given her the diary. She had sat there looking at the journal for a good ten minutes while she debated whether to read it. On the one hand, she was fascinated to find out how Draco’s mind worked, but at the same time, it seemed like prying, even if he was giving her permission.

When she finally opened the book and began reading she found herself remembering the Draco Malfoy of their second year; the obnoxious Pure-blood boy who, it had seemed to her at the time, had dedicated himself to making her life as miserable as possible. Interestingly, she found herself smiling on occasion at some of his comments and felt herself getting annoyed once again over many more, especially when his diary told her the petty reasons behind what he had done. But once she began reading his thoughts on her, his real secret and hidden thoughts, she found herself surprised and a little disconcerted.

She remembered the way he had acted over the Chamber of Secrets when he told everyone he hoped she would die, but reading his admission that this was the last thing he really wanted was unsettling.

As was his description of his joy at her return to the Great Hall after being revived by the Mandrakes. Apparently, this had unnerved him somewhat, especially the sharp flare of jealousy he had felt upon seeing her happily hugging Harry and Ron. And he had argued with his friends, who had accused him of being too happy about the restoration of those who had been Petrified. He had covered quickly, pointing out that they didn’t want the Headmaster — who Draco felt was already fiercely anti-Slytherin — to have a reason to punish the House for not being community-minded. This had, apparently, given him the opportunity to look at Hermione throughout the entire meal without fear of being found out.

What really surprised her, though, was his account of the journey on the Hogwarts Express back to London on the last day of term. Back home at Malfoy Manor, he had obviously spent quite some time trying to assess his feelings and chronicle them accurately. He had written an in-depth description of how, although he had tried to relax with his friends as they looked forward to the blissful summer that lay ahead without any interference by Mudbloods and blood traitors, he had not been able to shake his thoughts of her. The sudden realisation that after that day he wouldn’t be seeing her for over two months had caused him to rise and take a walk along the train, taking his goons with him for protection as he had made quite a few enemies over the course of the year. Draco had hovered outside the door of Hermione’s carriage for as long as possible, watching her while she played Exploding Snap with her friends until he knew he could no longer stay without getting caught. Amazingly, she had never even realised he was there.

How had he managed to keep all this quiet for all this time? Hermione wondered. She had never once suspected that Draco had harboured anything but ill-will for her, yet as far back as their second year he apparently had completely opposite feelings for her to the ones he showed publicly. Perhaps if he hadn’t felt the need to keep his feelings hidden, hadn’t been so enslaved by the Pure-blood ideal, things could have worked out differently for all of them. But then Hermione realised that wasn’t entirely true. Whilst Draco’s feelings for her weren’t anything like she had expected, his hatred of Harry and Ron was absolutely still as real as ever.

She looked at the Ancient Runes book she had been reading before Draco had given her the diary. She couldn’t face picking it up again. What she really wanted to read was Draco’s third-year diary.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Draco entered the Library the second time he couldn’t work out how Hermione was feeling. Her expression was inscrutable, giving nothing away. She had obviously finished reading his diary as it lay closed on the desk in front of her, but she hadn’t returned to her studies, which Draco chose to take as a hopeful sign that she might be interested in reading more. He noticed Madam Pince looking at him warily again as he walked over to Hermione and placed the next book on the table, retrieving the one she had read.

‘You really were an obnoxious little prick, weren’t you?’ Hermione said.

Draco’s heart caught. Whilst it was probably true, it wasn’t the comment he had hoped to hear. He bit back a retort. Those had always come far too easily to his lips over the years where Hermione and her friends were concerned.

Hermione looked at him intently. ‘How on earth did you manage to keep it quiet for so long? I mean, you never once gave any indication . . . .’

‘I didn’t have any choice,’ Draco said honestly. ‘You know what my father’s like. Can you imagine what he would have done if he’d had an inkling of how I felt about you? Even I didn’t understand it. There was no way he would have done. He still won’t.’ He pointed to the new diary on the table. ‘This was when I really began to fancy you seriously,’ he said without a trace of embarrassment.

Madam Pince had obviously decided they were talking too much and was making her way towards them. Draco glanced towards her, then back at Hermione.

‘Here comes the old bird to tell me off for talking. I’ll see you later, Mrs Malfoy.’

Before Hermione had a chance to say anything further, Draco left the Library. Hermione smiled at Madam Pince, who was looking rather put out at not being able to reprimand Draco, then opened the second, pristine volume of Draco’s diary.

She hadn’t got far into the narrative before she realised that even at thirteen Draco had been considerably more advanced than Harry and Ron. He had written in great detail his glee at Harry’s fainting incident aboard the Hogwarts Express on the way to school, when the Dementors had boarded the train looking for the escaped convict Sirius Black; and he had been incredibly scathing, too, in his disdain for the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin, with whom Hermione and her friends had shared a carriage, meaning Draco had needed to curb his bullying of them to some extent. He had also been very descriptive about her.

It appeared that in the short time he and the goons had been in the trio’s carriage, not only had Draco noticed that Hermione had got a decent tan while she was on holiday — which he had found rather attractive, according to his diary — but that she had changed physically, too, becoming curvier and much more alluring than Pansy, or so he had said. By the time she had got a month or so into the school year he had talked about her body many times, discussing her ‘impressive’ breasts in particular in quite some detail, explaining on several occasions how he had spent whatever lesson they had shared together checking her out, although these comments had always been followed by the self-loathing that stemmed from his desire for her. He had also been, Hermione had been amused to read, apparently surprised that neither of her dim-witted friends, as he called them, had seemed to notice the change in her and he had wondered on more than one occasion whether they had even realised she was female.

Interestingly, probably because he was spending so much time stalking her, he had also noticed that she had a fuller timetable than anyone else in the school, something she had spent a lot of time that year trying to keep quiet, and he had observed on several occasions that her increased workload was taking its toll and her relationship with her friends was clearly suffering as a result.

In fact, Draco had decided it was that stress that had caused Hermione to slap him hard across the face after he had helped condemn to death the hippogriff that had attacked him in Care of Magical Creatures. He had written in terms of such pleasure about what had happened and how he had been unable to keep the glee from his voice as Hagrid had broken down over the fate of Buckbeak that Hermione hated him all over again for what he had done and she was fairly certain that had he been in the Library at that moment she would have slapped him again, regardless of Madam Pince.

But it seemed he had been far more disturbed by his reaction to the slap than by Buckbeak’s attack. According to the diary, his immediate reaction had been a desire to hit her back although that was something he would never do to any female, not even a Mudblood, he had confided. But he had gone on to explain that deep inside, a far more disturbing desire had taken hold, one that had made him walk away from Hermione and her friends before he could act upon it.

Over the next few weeks Draco’s entries brooded on the unwelcome desire he felt for Hermione. It seemed nothing could drive it from his brain. However hard he tried to ignore it or convince himself he wasn’t interested in her, deep inside he knew this was a lie and it seemed to be tearing him apart.

Hermione was shocked at the entries that followed. It appeared that his need to act upon this desire that had taken hold of him had caused him to construct intricate fantasies about her, which in turn had caused him to be almost vitriolic in his self-hatred. It was unsurprising that he had been so unpleasant to her and her friends when his life was spent wanting to pull her to him and kiss her passionately, yet at the same time, he was trying to pretend he had no interest in her at all, that in fact, he hated her for being a Mudblood.

But by the end of term, it seemed he had been at least partially successful in stopping his fantasies about her. His last entry before the holiday recorded his triumph at not going to find her as he had done the year before — or as he put it, nothing would make him leave the carriage this time, especially not a Mudblood with an attitude problem.

Hermione was even more surprised than before and, she had to admit, a little impressed at how Draco had managed to keep his desire for her so deeply hidden from absolutely everyone. His indoctrination about the evils of Muggle-borns and fear of his father’s discovery of his desires had been so complete that he hadn’t dared show one single trace of interest in her in case the wrong people noticed, even though from everything she had read it was causing him considerable mental anguish. No wonder he had always come across as a complete nutter in all her dealings with him.

She was a little freaked out by his growing obsession with her, though, and with the theory he put forward several times in the latter part of the year, once his fantasies about her had become ingrained in his life, that she had slapped him not because she was angry about his treatment of Hagrid but because she felt a similar desire for Draco, too, and instead of acting on it was, like him, trying to pretend it didn’t exist.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco found waiting for Hermione to finish reading the diaries to be almost as stressful as being in love with her without being able to express his feelings. Once again he had been to visit her in the Library, this time taking two diaries as she seemed to be reading them much more quickly than he had anticipated. As he walked across the room, he realised he still had little idea of how she was feeling. She was definitely keeping her cards close to her beautiful chest.

She had cleared up one point for him, though, even if once again it didn’t make him feel very hopeful.

‘By the way, I didn’t slap you because I fancied you,’ Hermione told him before he had even placed the other books on the table. ‘I did it because I hated you for what you did to Hagrid. He’s a good man and was trying his best. What you did was mean and vindictive and you deserved more than a slap.’

‘Oh, come on, Hermione. You know as well as I do that Hagrid is a crap teacher. Look at those Blast-ended Skrewts and that dragon he hatched. He’s a complete bloody menace!’

‘I will admit he doesn’t always make the best choices,’ Hermione conceded. ‘But his heart is in the right place and you hurt him deeply by getting his hippogriff sentenced to death. Especially when it was your own stupid fault you got injured in the first place.’

Draco glared at Hermione. ‘That bloody animal was a killer. I could have been seriously hurt.’

‘That’s crap and you know it. Remember? You mentioned it in your diary,’ Hermione shot back. ‘You weren’t badly injured; there was hardly a scratch on you. You just played it up to be an arsehole. Just like you always do.’

Draco dug his nails into his hands and counted to ten. He couldn’t let Hermione wind him up so much that he attacked her. It would undo any good feelings she was getting about him from the diaries — assuming she was getting any good feelings.

Hermione sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Draco. I know this is all ancient history, but reading about it now, especially when you explain how you provoked the situation, makes me angry all over again.’ She grinned ruefully. ‘If you had been here while I was reading about it I would probably have slapped you again.’

Draco tried to smile back. ‘Lucky for me I wasn’t, then, otherwise Madam Pince would throw us both out.’ He indicated the books. ‘You seem to be getting through them pretty quickly, so I brought two this time. Or perhaps you want to take a break? It is almost lunchtime.’

Hermione looked at the two books and considered for a moment. She was surprised to find that she was actually quite eager to discover what Draco had written in them, but she didn’t want him to know that. If she read both books now she would end up missing lunch and she was already feeling quite peckish as her minuscule breakfast hadn’t really done anything to fill her up. She could probably do with a break anyway.

‘Lunch first, I think, otherwise I’ll lose all track of time,’ she told Draco. ‘And I’m quite hungry.’

‘I’m not surprised. You didn’t have much for breakfast,’ Draco observed. He handed her the diaries. ‘Can you put these in your bag?’

As Hermione stored the journals in her bag and packed away her parchment, quill and ink, Draco put away the Ancient Runes books Hermione had been working with. Madam Pince was still hovering but had retreated a little way off once she realised the couple were leaving and had cleared up after themselves satisfactorily.

‘Are you going to come back here after lunch, or are you going to the Gryffindor common room?’ Draco asked as they left the Library. He really hoped Hermione wasn’t going to retreat from him again.

‘Come back here, I think,’ Hermione mused. ‘It’s quiet here and I can concentrate better. Anyway, how would I get the other books if I was in the common room?’ She gave Draco a brief smile.

‘I’ll catch up with you later,’ Draco said as they reached the Great Hall.

For a moment Hermione worried that he would try to kiss her again, but he just gave her a small wave of farewell and headed for the Slytherin table. Hermione walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down and poured a glass of pumpkin juice. She hadn’t realised how thirsty she had got sitting in that dusty old Library.

She looked at the food choices and piled her plate high with barbequed chicken drumsticks and salad. For a moment it reminded her of how Ron had always filled his plate with enough food for three people. The memory made her smile wryly but caused her heart to constrict with pain at the thought of her ex-boyfriend. She hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye to him, to end the relationship properly. The next time she saw him it would be as the wife of the man Ron hated most in the world. She realised she was crying, a steady flow of tears dripping onto her plate. She wiped at her eyes, trying to stop the flow with her hands, then dug around in her bag to find a handkerchief before anyone noticed. Suddenly she wasn’t so hungry anymore. She took another large gulp of her pumpkin juice, picked up a couple of drumsticks, and got up and left, aware that Draco was watching her as she went.

She ate the drumsticks on the way back to the Library, stopping at the girl’s bathroom en route to wash her hands and face. She hadn’t even thought about how she was going to deal with Ron and Harry over this; she had gone into denial yet again. She looked at herself in the mirror, pushing down her bushy hair although it did no good at all. Well, she was going to have to stay in denial for a bit longer yet. She had enough to deal with emotionally with Draco’s diaries. Ron and Harry would just have to wait.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was surprised to find that Draco had started his fourth-year diary early. All the previous ones began on the first day of term and usually ended on the last day, although a few entries had been written after the journey home if something had happened during the trip that he felt he needed to analyse.

But in this journal Draco had included his visit with his family to the final game of the Quidditch World Cup. She had a feeling she knew why that was, and soon discovered she was right. She, too, had attended the match with Harry, Ron and his family and remembered the terrifying events caused by the Death Eaters after the game had finished. She wasn’t surprised to discover that, as she and her friends had thought at the time, Draco’s father, Lucius, had been one of the marchers terrorising the Muggle farmer and his family who owned the land where the stadium and campground had been erected.

He had begun the entry by expressing amazement that Hermione and her friends had somehow managed to get tickets for the Minister’s box, but he had apparently cheered up considerably when he realised his seat gave him a perfect view of her throughout the game. As she continued to read his comments Hermione realised that Draco had probably spent more time watching her than he had watching the Quidditch match. As ever, he had been quite descriptive about her body and also about a desire he had spent the whole match fighting, namely wanting to reach out and stroke her hair — which she found very odd considering how much he had always hated her unruly mop — followed by the usual mix of self-hatred and guilt that often accompanied admission of his desire for her. This time it seemed to have been caused by the sneering way his father had looked at Hermione, reminding Draco — as if he needed reminding — that she was off-limits to him.

But later, when the Death Eaters had marched, Draco had been worried that Hermione would be caught up in the trouble, scared that his father would try to get hold of her and teach her a lesson in humiliation. With a sense of panic running through him he had headed for the woods, hoping Mr Weasley had sent his family that way so Draco could make sure Hermione was safe. She remembered how he had already been in the clearing when they arrived and his sarcasm towards them. What she hadn’t realised was that he had meant it as a warning for her friends to get her away from the area. When she hadn’t been as grateful as he expected — not really a surprise, as she hadn’t realised he was trying to help her — his imagination had once again kicked into gear. He had begun by conjuring up an image of her held aloft by the Death Eaters, but this had soon turned into his usual lewd fantasies, seemingly based on her being grateful to him for rescuing her from the bad men.

Hermione remembered how he had known about the Tri-Wizard Tournament even before it had been announced by Dumbledore at the opening feast and the way Draco had wound them up about it on the train on the way to school. According to his diary he hadn’t been at all impressed when Harry’s name had come out of the Goblet of Fire; then again, he hadn’t been happy about Cedric Diggory being chosen as the School Champion, either. For probably the first time since Hermione had begun reading his diaries, Draco had actually shown some sympathy towards one of her friends. Not for Harry’s being thrown into a dangerous situation he was too young to be involved in; it seemed Draco had hoped the tournament might get rid of him once and for all. Surprisingly, his sympathy was for Ron. It seemed Draco completely understood her friend’s annoyance that Harry hadn’t shared how he had managed to get past the age charm on the Goblet, something that had stumped even the twins. Of course Draco, like Ron, didn’t believe Harry’s insistence that he hadn’t entered the tournament and he had been pleased to see that the argument between the two friends had caused them to stop speaking to each other.

Hermione shook her head and snorted softly in disgust, rolling her eyes at the comments. Boys! Only a stupid boy could have got so annoyed at not being picked for a potentially lethal competition.

Of course, not being the Hogwarts or Tri-Wizard Champion hadn’t stopped Draco imagining himself as one. And of course, as his fantasies always did, they included her in there somewhere. Usually, she was sycophantically praising him for being so talented and rubbing herself against him provocatively whilst they kissed. But after a few weeks of this, the fantasies had developed further, taking on an infinitely more sexual overtone. It was around this time that Draco began to record his real-life sexual exploits, instigated, it seemed to Hermione, in an attempt to stop his desire for her and the fantasies that accompanied it. He was only fourteen and yet was describing doing to others, and fantasising about doing to her, things she had never even heard of at that age, let alone known how to do.

But his new-found sex life hadn’t stopped him becoming extremely jealous when the _Daily Prophet_ had described Hermione as Harry’s girlfriend. Draco wrote at great length about how annoyed he was that Harry was getting what he, Draco, wanted so badly. Interestingly, this had included an extensive rant about Draco’s father and his Pure-blood ideals that stopped Draco from making Hermione his girlfriend. Draco had discovered Harry and Hermione’s supposed relationship when he had overheard Pansy — about whom he was generally scathing unless he was using her to rid himself of his frustration at not being able to do anything with Hermione — when she was chatting to her bitchy friends about Rita Skeeter’s article. Hermione remembered the taunts she had suffered from the Slytherins over the article, especially from Pansy, and was unable to stop the sense of pleasure she felt at reading just how impressed Draco had been with her for the way she had just ignored them.

He was still stalking her and had soon come to the conclusion that the only reason she and Harry were spending so much time together was because Ron still wasn’t talking to Harry. He also realised that Harry and Hermione weren’t actually lovers, which had relieved him greatly although it hadn’t stopped him keeping an eye on them whenever they were together, just in case he saw something untoward happening between them.

Hermione realised that Draco’s obsession with her had grown considerably from the previous year. So many of the entries were about her that she couldn’t help but wonder if he had done anything that year but stalk her. But then she realised that because of the Tournament a lot of things had happened that had brought her into direct contact with Draco, certainly more than would normally have been the case.

She got annoyed once more over the ‘Support Cedric Diggory’ badges that Draco and his friends had created, remembering the way they had doctored them to show the alternate words _POTTER STINKS_ ; and as he gleefully recounted the events of the afternoon when he and Harry had duelled over the badges, she found her anger with Draco growing. She calmed down a little when she read of the guilt he felt when during the duel with Harry, their spells had collided and ricocheted. He hadn’t been all that bothered about Harry’s spell hitting Goyle, but he had felt completely mortified that his own had hit Hermione. His guilt had turned to anger almost immediately when Professor Snape had embarrassed and hurt her by saying he saw no difference in her when in fact, her teeth had actually grown down past her collar. Draco had been furious that he could do nothing either to help her or retaliate against Professor Snape and for a moment Hermione felt quite warm towards the boy for his concern. But a moment later that, too, was gone as Draco was back to gleefully discussing how pleased he had been when Professor Snape had punished Harry and Ron and not him.

And then it was Christmas and the Yule Ball. In every entry after they had heard it was to take place, up until about a week before the ball itself, Draco had written about his desire to ask Hermione to be his partner for the ball. He had fantasised about it, of course, and had beaten himself up about it, too — another given — but eventually, after a lot of prevaricating, he had done the sensible thing and asked Pansy, although it had done nothing to stop his desire for Hermione. He had spent quite some time speculating about who she was going with. At first, he had considered Harry, which would have confirmed her as being his girlfriend, but then he had written that he was convinced her two friends had still not realised she was a girl, which ruled out both of them as partners. He had discovered this surmise to be true when he heard Ron asking Hermione who she was going with. She remembered back to the time of the ball and the argument she’d had with Ron that night over the exact same point.

Draco had been extremely jealous when he discovered that Viktor Krum had been Hermione’s date. He had written in exquisite detail both about how beautiful she had looked that evening in her robes of periwinkle blue, her hair amazingly tamed and styled and also of his utter hatred for the Bulgarian Quidditch ace who had been her partner because he had got what Draco so wanted. Once again he ended up sympathising with Ron, noticing the way Ron had been acting once Hermione arrived at the ball. After one dance Draco, like Ron, had spent the rest of evening oblivious to anything but Hermione and Viktor.

Hermione was amused to read that Draco had been worried about her being led astray by Viktor. Although it was apparently fine for him to fantasise about doing all sorts of lewd things with her, there was no way he wanted anyone else even touching her. He was happy when she said goodnight to Viktor without, as far as he was aware, so much as a single kiss being shared. Draco’s sympathy with Ron had evaporated, however, once he realised the boy was feeling the same way Draco did, something Draco had ranted about at great length. He had been pleased that Ron had argued with Hermione, both because the boy had said pretty much what Draco was feeling and because it made Hermione mad at Ron, which made him seem less of a rival.

After the ball Draco had been extremely upset that Hermione’s relationship with Viktor had continued, to the extent that he had actually begun to hope that Ron would break it up, since Draco obviously couldn’t. Several times he had theorised as to what she was doing with Viktor. He was convinced that the two of them were spending every spare moment having sex, and his diary entries matched his resulting mood.

Hermione was surprised and pleased to note that Draco had actually been impressed with Harry’s performance in the tournament, both with how he had handled the dragon and his performance in the lake. He had written that he would never admit it to a living soul, though, and Harry’s success had made him begin to worry once more that Hermione would decide to go out with him.

And then, with the horrific end to the Tri-wizard Tournament, everything had changed. Well — not Draco’s desire for her. That was apparently never-ending. But Voldemort’s return had forcefully reminded Draco of her blood status, and whilst he still yearned for and fantasised about her just as regularly as before, the hatred of himself at being a blood traitor that followed these admissions in the diary had increased until they almost drowned out the desire, which Hermione assumed was what Draco was trying to achieve.

Hermione was quite touched when she discovered that he had spent quite a lot of time in the last week before the end of school worrying about her, not only for being Muggle-born but also for being Harry’s friend, which brought her into direct danger with the newly returned Dark Lord and his followers. Draco had devised several elaborate plans to help her escape if the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts, all of which he had documented in great detail. He needed to be close enough to get to her for them to work, so he had taken to following her around everywhere just in case.

And then he had gone and ruined it all by being a complete prat again on the train home, Hermione thought and she felt her ire rising at the return of his pettiness. She closed the book and rubbed her eyes. Almost all of Draco’s nastiness towards her and her friends had stemmed from his need to subjugate his feelings for her. If only he hadn’t felt that need, hadn’t been brought up to believe in all that evil crap his parents believed; things could have been so different. Maybe they would have been friends. He would still have been an annoying prat — but then again, so were Ron and Harry sometimes, Hermione reflected, yet at the end of the day she still loved them dearly.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco sighed as he watched the stone sink into the lake. He had never been any good at this. He picked up another and threw it, watching as it, too, skipped once, almost half-heartedly, then sank. Again and again he threw stones, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand rather than on Hermione, back in the warm Library. After twenty minutes his hands were going numb from the cold and he knew he had to admit defeat. The light was fading fast and the temperature had dropped steeply. He needed to return to the castle before he froze completely.

As he walked away from the lake he wondered whether Hermione had got to the fifth year diary yet. That had been a very strange year, he reflected as he made his way back towards the castle. He and Hermione had both been made Prefects, not really a surprise as they were top of their year. What had been a major surprise, though, was that Weasley had got it, too, and even better still, Potter hadn't been deemed good enough, which had given Draco plenty to crow about.

Draco remembered wondering rather more anxiously than he wanted to admit whether Weasley had got off with Hermione over the holidays, the boy having finally realised Hermione was a girl. Draco felt sure the Weasel would have pressed his advantage once outside of school; he certainly would have done if he had been in the Weasel’s shoes. But to his relief, it appeared the boy was just as clueless, or gay, as ever upon their return to school after the holidays and lovely Hermione was still single.

Now on the verge of turning sixteen, she was looking more attractive and curvier than ever and over the course of the opening feast Draco had entertained several fantasies involving the beautiful, and at least in his mind, rather scantily clad girl, most of which involved him punishing her for being so damn attractive and he remembered documenting them in quite graphic detail.

As the year had progressed, those fantasies had become ever more explicit, he remembered, and as much as he hated to admit it, had at some points been downright perverted. His membership in Dolores Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad had given him far more power than a mere Prefect, which he had been keen to abuse, especially where the lovely Hermione was concerned. But even with Umbridge’s protection, he wouldn’t have been able to get away with pursuing Hermione sexually, at least not openly. That was, most frustratingly, still off-limits to him because of her blood status, especially now the Dark Lord had returned. Muggle-loving of any description was definitely not allowed.

Instead, Hermione’s direct opposition to him by becoming a member of what they had called Dumbledore’s Army had given Draco the chance to sate his frustrations in the way he always had done previously, by being nasty to her and her friends. And he was a little disconcerted to remember that he had succeeded in that goal magnificently. Still unable to reveal his desire for Hermione, the fantasies had remained firmly in his mind; and to stop the self-hatred that still raged because of this unquenchable desire, he had written page after page about both his desires and his weakness, his suffering on both counts released into the pages of his diary.

If nothing else, Hermione was going to have a good idea of how he would punish her if he ever decided to invoke the obedience rule, Draco realised. Not that he would, of course. He was determined that their marriage would be a proper one based on love and respect, and that meant both of them being equal. One of his lewder fantasies filled his mind and for a few minutes he immersed himself in the vision, but as he neared the door of the castle he let the thought slip away. Perhaps if Hermione was swayed enough by his diaries, she might one day be willing to allow him to play out some of his fantasies.

He had to stop thinking like that, the little voice in his brain told him sternly. Playing that way with Hermione was way off in the future, if ever. He had to concentrate first on getting her to accept him as her husband on a day-to-day level and there was no place for fantasies or punishments in that.

Draco gave an automatic sigh of pleasure as he entered the entrance hall and the heat enveloped him. It wasn't really all that warm in the draughty old castle, at least not outside of the common rooms and the Great Hall, which had large fires to warm up the cold stones, but it was a damn sight warmer than outside. He rubbed his hands together briskly, feeling the pain in them as they began to warm up. He unwrapped his scarf, leaving it hanging loosely around his neck and rubbed his ears for a moment as he looked at the House hourglasses.

Ravenclaw was winning, he noted. At least if it wasn't going to be a victory for Slytherin, it wouldn’t be Gryffindor, either. Every year since he had joined Hogwarts the House of the Lion had won the House Cup, and all because of bloody Potter. Every year he did something that should, under any normal Headmaster, have got him expelled; but instead, the Gryffindor-biased Dumbledore gave him and his friends just enough points to win.

That made Draco wonder: had Hermione told her friends about her wedding and who her new husband was yet? What had they, or would they, think of her revelation? He was betting they wouldn’t be pleased, just as his father wouldn’t be pleased when he found out what Draco had done.

Draco knew Hermione and Weasley had finally become a couple at some point during what would have been their final year at school. He had discovered that when he had been researching her movements over the course of that year, trying to establish whether she was going to return to school or not. At first, he had been furious that Weasley had finally manned up; Draco saw any possible chance with Hermione disappearing, knowing how she had fancied the ginger-haired man for years, although Draco never understood that attraction. But then Hermione had elected to return to Hogwarts, while her dozy boyfriend and his mate decided not to bother.

Draco, too, had returned to school, ready to step into Weasley's shoes if the opportunity arose. Whilst his parents, and his father, in particular, would still not have approved of his choice of girlfriend — even after everything that had occurred they were ever the Muggle-haters — Voldemort's death and the failure of the Death Eaters to keep control of the Ministry had given Draco the freedom he needed to realise that he no longer cared what Hermione's blood status was. She could have been part-Troll, for all he cared.

Back at school, he had been careful not to cross her. He had no interest in arguing with her but was content at first to sit back and watch her as he always had, just waiting for the opportunity to steal her heart. But although his adoration of Hermione continued to grow, she appeared to have no interest in getting to know the new, non-confrontational Draco and he had begun to consider more extreme measures.

Then the Ministry of Magic had sent out their questionnaire and the new marriage law Draco hadn't really taken any notice of until that point became far more interesting. Unaware at first of the petition part of the law, Draco had wondered if there was a way to ensure he was matched with Hermione. Resorting to the sort of research she was famous for, he had contacted the Ministry and enquired about their screening process.

He had soon discovered that bribery wasn't going to work. The Ministry of Magic, aware that this law would not be popular, were rigorous about ensuring that the best possible matches were made and weren't willing to cut any corners. Disappointed, Draco had been ready to go back to his original plan of seduction, although seriously intensified due to the need to succeed before someone else was matched with Hermione. But then his contact had told him about the petition part of the law and his heart had soared once again. The discovery that he could, quite legally, request that Hermione become his wife seemed almost too good to be true.

But he knew he was probably too late. Surely his rival, the Weasel, would already have staked his claim to make his beautiful girlfriend his wife. Disillusioned again, Draco had asked what would happen in the event a Muggle-born received more than one petition. The answer had given him more hope than he expected. In the event of multiple petitions, the screening process would once again come into force, and the most compatible match would be the chosen partner. As Draco thought of the red-haired man, his heart lifted again. He was more intelligent than Weasley and better at magic; surely he couldn't fail to be a better match with Hermione.

Buoyed by his discovery, Draco had turned his attention to the bonding ceremony. New as the law was, the ceremony itself was as old as the hills. However much it was couched in new terms, as all old Pure-blood magic did, it favoured the male. He had been alerted to this by the recent addition of the life bond — introduced, he had guessed, to stop Pure-bloods like his father from killing their partners, either literally or by invoking the obedience clause. It seemed a little strange that a law purporting to be for the good of everyone in the magical community would be so blatantly sexist and old-fashioned. It appeared that whoever had been charged with creating the new ceremony hadn't tried very hard but had cribbed large chunks of the existing one without considering what they were creating. Either that or they didn't have a clue what the original ceremony really meant.

For a moment the realisation that Hermione would have no choice but to do whatever he wanted once she was his wife had thrilled Draco. But he backed away from that thought pretty quickly. Although he wasn't above getting her to marry him through any method possible, he didn't want her to submit to him purely because she had no choice. He could have put her under the Imperius curse and got the same effect. Whatever happened between them, he was determined that when he finally made love to Hermione it would be because she wanted him, not because he told her to.

Draco hadn’t been too worried, though. He knew Hermione would be sure to research the bonding ceremony before taking part in it. That was just what she did. If she really had a problem with the wording he would request that the Ministry change it; surely the official wouldn’t be obstructive if both of them were willing. And if she didn’t mention anything about the wording, then neither would he.

So Draco had put in his petition and had been astounded to discover that Weasley hadn’t done so himself. Draco had absolutely no idea why he hadn’t, but he couldn’t help being glad there was no competition. Although it was unlikely he would have lost, nothing was entirely certain and he hadn’t wanted there to be any chance Hermione could get away from him.

Draco walked towards the stairs down to the dungeons and the Slytherin common room. He was still determined that his and Hermione’s marriage would be equal, but she was making it so hard when she wouldn’t even talk to him. He had slipped up when he had spoken to old McGonagall — not so much for asking for a shared bedroom, that request could easily be relinquished. But threatening to take Hermione away from school had been foolish. The words had slipped out before he’d had a chance to check himself, as had his comment to Hermione that she would have to obey him. It was no wonder she was convinced he just wanted to take advantage of her when he acted like that. He really needed to be more careful, especially if his diaries didn’t have the effect he so desired.

He cursed himself quietly as he approached the wall and spoke the password that would give him access to the room beyond. Hermione had already been jittery about his reasons for marrying her; his unthinking stupidity had just made things worse. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t researched the bonding ceremony, though. He would have bet money she would have done, but he hadn’t wanted to mention it during the ceremony, knowing she was already stressed enough about the whole thing and was just looking for reasons to attack him.

And she still hadn’t even mentioned the rings.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione had been surprised to find that Draco and his Slytherin Inquisitorial Squad colleagues had disliked Dolores Umbridge just as much as the DA had. But unlike the DA, who had rebelled, the Slytherins had chosen to back the vicious old baggage. Hermione had found herself chuckling several times at Draco’s description of the woman, although remembering the period she knew it had been anything but a laughing matter at the time.

It seemed his fantasies about her hadn’t stopped, either. Almost from the first moment he saw her in the Great Hall on their first day back at school it seemed he was having perverted thoughts about her. She had been shocked to read some of the things he had written; his descriptive skills certainly weren’t in any doubt. He had a very florid turn of phrase when the mood suited him. It had made her think of their earlier conversation where he had told her he would punish her for not obeying him and she had found herself blushing and at the same time rather worried at the idea that what he had mentioned in his diary would be the sort of thing he would choose to do to her.

Apart from the pornography that had spewed from the fifteen-year-old Draco’s mind at regular intervals throughout the year — and by that age she discovered he was _very_ sexually active, although it seemed mainly to be because he was attempting to drive thoughts of her out of his mind, something at which he was failing miserably — he had also spent a lot of words on Harry and Ron. There was hatred for both of them, a deep, abiding hatred that chilled Hermione when she read about it.

And yet again there was the childish glee Draco couldn’t help but show whenever he had done something nasty to her and her friends. His descriptions of the way he had persecuted poor Ron when he had played his first Quidditch matches had once again managed to infuriate her in ways only Draco could manage.

Hermione had now read most of Draco’s diaries and was having real problems with her feelings about him. Previously it had all been so easy. He was the mean Pure-blood who had never been anything but nasty to her, and it had been almost a given that she would hate him in return. But his diaries showed that whilst he was that mean boy she had known for so long, he was so much more besides. He was funny, intelligent and incredibly insightful when he wanted to be, and to top it all, he was so handsome it hurt. Even though she had disliked a lot of the things Draco had written in his journals, Hermione couldn’t honestly say she hated him anymore, which was probably a good thing as she was stuck with him for the rest of her life; but was a little disconcerting all the same.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco had actually considered long and hard whether to give Hermione the last of his diaries. It didn’t actually contain all that much about her. In truth, he had been far too busy trying to get the Vanishing Cabinet mended and gathering his courage for what needed to be done to even think about her, except when he was in bed at night. His fantasies about her giving herself to him still happened when he masturbated, however, and were his one brief glimmer of light in a relentlessly awful existence, even if there was absolutely no hope of them ever coming true in real life.

He’d had Pansy, of course, and she had always been more than willing to do those things he wanted to do with Hermione. Now that he was older, he felt bad that quite often he had taken advantage of Pansy’s desire for him just so he could get his frustration over Hermione out of his system. He would imagine she was Hermione, closing his eyes to allow Hermione’s beautiful face to take the place of the horsey Slytherin girl’s. He was sure the times he had done that he had come harder than usual and had probably been far more solicitous towards Pansy than he generally was; after all, he had always taken rather than given where she was concerned. But it wasn’t really much comfort knowing that really he had just used the girl, however much she had wanted it.

Did Hermione really need to know about his bedtime habits, or that he had been so angry when he had seen her at Slughorn’s Christmas party with that disgusting brute Cormack McLaggen that he had given himself away and had ended up being caught by Filch, with the embarrassment that being dragged before the assembled party had caused, not to mention the unwanted discussion with Snape afterwards? Then there was his pleasure at realising that Weasley, his main rival for Hermione’s affections, had — completely mentally in Draco’s opinion — chosen not to go out with her but instead had gone for the vapid although admittedly pretty Lavender Brown. Draco remembered writing quite extensively on that particular subject, especially as Hermione had been so upset by it. So perhaps there was more in there about her than he had realised.

But more written confessions of his feelings for Hermione aside, Draco needed her to see this last painful chapter of their time together before the world had gone completely mad. Now that he had opened his heart and soul to her scrutiny he had to let her see it all, had to give her the opportunity to see him at his worst and at his weakest and trust that she would also see the good that was in there — buried deep to be sure, but there all the same. Perhaps if she understood what he had gone through during that last year, she would find it in her heart to feel some sympathy for him.

He grabbed the final journal from the bed and before he could change his mind he headed for the Library.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘This is the last one. I didn’t keep a diary last year,’ Draco said as he reluctantly gave Hermione the final journal. He looked uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t really have time to keep one.’ Hermione nodded understandingly; she, too, hadn’t had time to keep her diary up-to-date once they had been caught by the Snatchers. ‘And I don’t think I ever want to be reminded of how awful that time was,’ he admitted quietly.

Hermione looked at the diary Draco had given her. It was identical to the previous five in colour and style, but unlike the other pristine volumes this one was bent and battered and looked as if it had seen better days.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Draco said after a moment. He squeezed Hermione’s hand and gave her a weak smile before walking away, leaving her to read once more.

Hermione looked at the book with a slight feeling of trepidation. Although she had been careful to ensure that Draco hadn’t noticed, her emotions were already running high because of everything she had read so far, and she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to share any more of Draco’s feelings. But whilst it might have been painful in places, it had been incredibly interesting to see things from his perspective, and if nothing else she would discover how he had felt about being ordered to kill their Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore — something she was sure, having now read the other diaries, Draco would have felt terrible about. She opened the journal at the first page and began to read.

Two hours later Hermione closed the journal, the tears which had started about halfway through the narrative still trailing down her cheeks. She wiped her at her eyes ineffectually with a wet and grubby handkerchief, then gave up when she realised it was a pointless enterprise.

Now she knew why this journal had been in such a state when all the others had stayed so perfect. The pain, anger, and sheer terror Draco had lived through in that final year had been shown, not only through his writing but in the way he had treated the diary. Whereas the earlier volumes had been a general account of his days at school, written in the style of a letter to a friend, this last tome had been spat out, bucolic rants and meandered scribblings; the self-loathing, no longer just because of his desire for her but for the things he was being forced to do, becoming ever more evident and vitriolic as the year went on. This was no missive to someone he cared for but Draco’s attempt to purge his soul as his life spiralled wildly out of control and his attempts to satisfy a megalomaniac master failed time and again. Confessional, bleak and unremittingly painful, Hermione could easily imagine Draco wringing the book in his hands as he tried to compose the words that would free his soul from its agony, for however short a time.

Whatever Hermione thought of Draco — and after the journals she had read she wasn’t entirely sure what her feelings for him were any longer — he had not deserved to suffer in the way he so clearly had and she was overwhelmingly glad there was no diary for the following year. Whatever he had been through whilst at Hogwarts must have been as nothing compared to that which he had suffered in his own home, with Voldemort still so angry with his family for their failures in their service to him.

She remembered how broken his father, Lucius, previously always so handsome and so arrogant, had appeared when they had been taken to Malfoy Manor by the Snatchers. How much worse must it have been for Draco, who was still so young, too young to be involved in the atrocities Voldemort was intent on wreaking? Now she could forgive him for not doing anything to help her, Harry and Ron to escape, although in his own way Draco had tried to help them when he had refused to identify them even though he had been well aware of who they were. She already knew he had been unable to stop Bellatrix’s torture of her. No one would have been able to keep that mad bitch from attacking her, so no forgiveness was needed for that.

Hermione looked down at the battered journal on the table in front of her. Draco really was completely and absolutely in love with her. Everything the journals had mentioned assured her of that. But she really didn’t know what to do now. Part of her wanted to run away, to get as far as she could from her husband, scared at the strength of his desire for her. But there was another part of her that wanted to comfort Draco, wanted to tell him everything would be all right and he hadn’t been wrong to share his most personal secrets with her. She debated returning to Gryffindor Tower without talking to him but she knew that would be unfair of her, especially after he had trusted her with his memories. But whatever happened next she needed some time to process the things she had read and to get her emotions back under control. And, too, she needed to review her own feelings in light of what she now knew about Draco. She couldn’t spend any significant amount of time with him again until she had considered what all of this meant for them as a couple.

She had finally stopped crying. Wiping her face with the sleeve of her jumper, she looked in her bag for a mirror and checked her reflection critically. Gods, she looked a mess, and the red eyes gave away the tears she had shed. Well, she couldn’t sit in the Library any longer. She had already spent more than enough hours there already and Madam Pince would be closing soon. And after such hard-going and oppressive reading matter she was really in need of some fresh air and a chance to let her mind breathe. She put away the mirror and pulled the handle of her bag over her shoulder. Breathing deeply, she stood and picked up the diary. She walked slowly towards the door, her mind running through the things she had read over the course of the day. She would head to the kitchens to get some food; then, after she had wrapped herself up warmly, she would go and sit by the lake to eat in solitude while she thought about what to do next. After she had eaten she would go and look for Draco, to give him back the diary if nothing else.

But Draco was waiting for her outside the Library, sitting with his back against the wall opposite the door. He jumped up as she came through the door and gave her a quick smile, which disappeared when he saw her serious and blotchy face. He looked at her warily, worried now that the diaries might have done more harm than good. Hermione gave him a weak smile, although her heart had sunk a little at the sight of him. She really had hoped for a chance to think things through before having to talk to him. She held out the final diary.

‘So now you know pretty much everything there is to know about me,’ Draco said quietly as he took the journal from Hermione, ‘all my deepest, darkest secrets.’

Hermione nodded. ‘It’s rather a lot to take in, to be honest.’

Draco smiled again, more widely this time. ‘I’m sure it is. I’m amazed how quickly you read it all.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘I’ve always been a fast reader. I need to get some food,’ she said, changing the subject before Draco could question her about what she had read. ‘I’m starving . . . and dying of thirst. It’s dusty in that Library.’

Draco looked at her intently for a moment, obviously debating whether to change the subject back. Suddenly feeling guilty at her cowardice, Hermione jumped in.

‘Please give me a day, Draco.’ She looked pleadingly at him. ‘I need some time to think about what I’ve read. I promise I will talk to you about it, but not today.’

Draco felt his heart hammering in his chest. Hermione wasn’t rejecting him outright and she wasn’t talking to him as if she hated him, either.

‘I’ll give you anything you want, my love,’ Draco whispered as he moved closer, pulling her into his arms. ‘I’ve waited for you this long; another day won’t kill me.’

Hermione tried not to cringe as Draco hugged her and prayed that he wouldn’t try to kiss her again. She needed to get away. Fortunately, Draco, sensing her unease, released her and stepped back to give her a little space.

‘I’ll, erm, let you get on, then,’ he said, feeling a little awkward now. He really wanted to kiss Hermione again and remind her that he loved her but suddenly it didn’t seem appropriate. ‘If you need to talk to me I’ll be in the Slytherin common room.’

Hermione nodded, understanding, but Draco knew she was unlikely to come looking for him that night.

‘Or I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast,’ he added, wanting to show that he was trying to be thoughtful towards her.

Hermione smiled and took his hand, squeezing it gently. ‘I will talk to you about this tomorrow, Draco, I promise.’

Draco smiled back. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Mrs Malfoy.’

He let go of Hermione’s hand, allowing her to leave. He was pleased to see that she didn’t visibly cringe in the way she had the previous times he had reminded her that she was his wife. Perhaps that was a good sign.

Draco watched Hermione walk down the corridor, wishing he was going with her, but he knew he had to give her time to digest what she had read. To have consumed all five diaries in such a short space of time must have been overwhelming for her, especially to have been shown his deep and abiding passion for her, a passion she had never even had an inkling about until today. Hermione had told him she would discuss it with him once she had had a chance to consider and he truly believed she would. Unlike him, she had always told the truth and was unlikely to change now. He just hoped that having seen his truth, Hermione would think him worth the effort of loving and would be happy to make a go of their marriage, as he so desperately wanted.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione had spent a long and sleepless night thinking about everything she had read in the diaries. Whilst it was vaguely possible there was a more nefarious purpose behind her marriage, she now didn’t believe there was. There was no way she could doubt any longer that Draco had indeed, as he had told her every time she had questioned it, married her because he was in love with her, or at least thought he was.

She had run the whole gamut of emotions during the reading of the journals. She had discovered there was far more to Draco than she had ever imagined. Although there was plenty she still despised about him — and there always would be after what had happened between them previously — she had learnt that the complex and intelligent man who was now her husband could also be pleasant and charming and that there was enough inside him that she could like and maybe even admire to begin to construct a relationship with him, a proper relationship based on love and trust, one that would last a lifetime — and not only because they had been bonded that way.

There would still be problems. There had been no sign in Draco’s diaries that his animosity towards her two best friends had lessened in any way. And she knew, too, that Ron and Harry felt exactly the same way Draco did. She was dreading how they would react when she told them who she was married to, and for that reason still hadn’t put quill to parchment.

Ron was going to be devastated by the identity of her husband. Knowing him, he would take it as a personal insult and would selfishly consider Hermione a traitor for not having refused the match although she knew full well there was no way he had have been willing to leave the wizarding world and his huge family for her. Harry, with less of a personal stake in her future, would be more pragmatic; annoyed at first, but then accepting of the situation. Then again, he would have no choice if they were to remain friends.

And then there were her parents. Currently, they were unaware that was who they were, as she had performed a rather complex piece of magic on them in order to keep them safe during the war, sending them to Australia where they didn’t even realise they had a daughter, let alone one who was a witch. Hermione hadn’t yet returned their memories, having decided to complete her education first. She knew that although they had always been extremely proud of her, her parents had never felt comfortable with her being a witch and she had spent the months since the war ended debating over and over again whether or not to leave them as they were, knowing they would be happy in their ignorance even if she might sometimes feel the pain of missing them.

She still hadn’t decided which way she was going to go on that, but she was sure her parents wouldn’t be pleased to discover she was married at nineteen, whatever the circumstances surrounding it. She had been glad she hadn’t had to explain the marriage law and the reasons for it to them and wasn’t looking forward to having to do so if she gave them their memories back.

And then, of course, there was Draco’s family. She was under no illusions at all where they were concerned. Draco’s father, Lucius, had always detested her and had made no effort to hide the fact on the occasions when they had been brought together. If things had gone his way at the Ministry of Magic she wouldn’t even have been alive and it had only been due to a miracle called Dobby the house-elf that she had escaped Malfoy Manor with her life after that mad bitch Bellatrix had tortured her. Draco had been brought up believing in the racist ideals his family supported and had battled with it during his entire time at school, terrified his father would discover his desire for her. What had happened to make him no longer scared of what his father thought? Whatever it had been, would it be enough? She couldn’t believe Draco’s parents would welcome her to the family with open arms, however many times Draco called her Mrs Malfoy.

But at the end of the day, regardless of the haters, the fact remained that she and Draco were married and thanks to the bonding ceremony would stay that way for the rest of their lives, whether they wanted to or not. If she wanted her life to be anything but a nightmare, she needed to stop feeling sorry for herself for what had happened and get down to the business of building a marriage she was happy to live in. It would be difficult, of that she had no doubt; after all, she had seven years of bad feeling and prejudice to have to try to ignore before she could even think of Draco in a more romantic way. She hoped, too, that Draco wouldn’t be too disappointed when she didn’t live up to his fantasy expectations of her. But she was sure now, after reading the diaries, that it was possible the two of them could be happy together, and she had to make that happen.

Which meant making compromises, Hermione knew. It was all very well for her to insist that nothing change between them, but that wasn’t realistic nor was it fair, she was a little chastened to realise. Ever since the wedding Draco had bent over backwards to accommodate her wishes when she had done nothing but act like a spoilt child. Was it any wonder he had threatened to take her out of school when she was being such a brat? And of course he wanted to consummate the marriage. He had been waiting for the chance for six years. 

Hermione sighed as she thought about sleeping with Draco. He was incredibly handsome, of that there was no doubt, and he was definitely experienced, as his journals had told her time and again, in glorious detail, of all of his exploits. And he was so desperate to make love to her that she could almost guarantee her first time, and probably every time, would be the best experience he could possibly give her. She didn’t need to worry about not enjoying it.

But the problem was that every time she had ever considered having sex it had always been Ron she had thought about doing it with, never anyone else. Even Viktor, with whom she’d had a brief relationship when she was fifteen, hadn’t removed Ron from her heart and mind. She had been in love with the lanky, ginger-haired man for as long as Draco had been in love with her.

The sudden realisation of the parallel between her feelings for Ron and Draco’s for her was astonishing and she felt a sudden and surprising wave of sympathy for her husband. They had both been trapped by their desires, but where she had been naive and passive, at first certain that one day Ron would realise he loved her and then, once they had finally become a couple, that everything would work out beautifully in the end, Draco had been proactive in making his dream, which could never have come true in the world before the war, into a reality in the brave new world after it.

She could grieve for the loss of Ron as a lover all she wanted but it wasn’t Draco’s fault he hadn’t had any competition when he had petitioned for her hand in marriage. She would do well to remember, too, that the Ministry would never have paired her with Ron anyway, even if Draco hadn’t petitioned. She was still matched to Draco, and if not to him, then to some nameless, faceless wizard who could have been so much worse, especially with what she now knew of the bonding ceremony.

And Draco had made such an effort, from the actual petition itself and dressing up for the wedding to supplying decent wedding rings so they weren’t stuck with the poor-quality Ministry ones. Hermione looked at her ring. She remembered now how it had glowed with fire during the ceremony, the patterns looking as if they were runes. She had not bothered looking at it since, her determination not to be married driving it from her mind.

She pulled the band from her finger and gazed at it intently. It was, without a doubt, a very beautiful item and knowing Draco it had probably cost a fortune. The ring was inscribed both inside and out, but Hermione was unable to make out the runes to decipher them. They were unlikely to be anything dangerous, otherwise Mr Threadwoody would have refused to use them in the ceremony; but she remembered how impressed he had seemed to be with them, so they were definitely something special. She needed to remember to ask Draco about them. Smiling, she put the ring back on her finger, realising as she did so that she had already got used to it being there. Her finger had felt strangely empty and light when she had removed it.

As the night turned to morning, the birds singing outside her window as the sky lightened, Hermione came to her decision. She made her way to the bathroom to take a shower in an effort to wake herself up, although she was feeling drained from the lack of sleep. She knew Draco would want to talk to her as soon as she went downstairs, but it was a school day and she needed to concentrate on her lessons. Talking to Draco would have to wait until after classes finished, whether he liked it or not.

Anyway, she had things to sort out before she could face Draco.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco was filled with frustration. He could feel it simmering away inside and he was having a hard time controlling it. Although Hermione had agreed to talk to him today after she’d had a chance to think over what she had read, they were now back into lessons and he was sure she was unlikely to want to discuss things until the school day was over, even though he couldn’t concentrate on his studies at all until he knew what her feelings for him were. It had been really hard sharing a classroom with her all morning and trying not to pester her about talking to him. She would let him know when she was ready to talk. If he tried to push it he would probably end up annoying her and then any ground he had gained overnight would instantly be lost.

And he had to keep his temper under control, too. The last thing he needed was to stupidly mention the obedience rule when he had assured her their marriage wouldn’t be like that. He had meant it, but sometimes, when Hermione wound him up, as she always seemed to do effortlessly, he couldn’t help but say something that pissed her off in return. It had always been that way and was so ingrained it wasn’t likely to change any time soon and a lot of work was required on Draco’s part to stop it from happening.

Instead, he sat back, and as he had done so many times over the years he studied her beautiful body, imagining what it would be like to finally touch the breasts he had dreamed about for so long. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to wait forever to find out.

At the end of Arithmancy Draco waited for Hermione, intending to walk to lunch with her. He noticed she didn’t look very pleased about it, but he quickly reassured her.

‘I know you’re not ready to talk to me yet,’ he said raising his hands in supplication. ‘And that’s fine. I can wait until you are. But I’d like to escort you to lunch.’ He held out his arm politely. Hermione took it, a small smile crossing her lips as she did so.

‘I thought perhaps we could go for a walk after Herbology,’ Hermione said as they walked towards the Great Hall. ‘I’m sure we can find somewhere quiet to talk. It’s pretty cold out there, so there won’t be too many people about.’

Draco smiled back. ‘I’m looking forward to it — and I’ll admit a little apprehensive,’ he said honestly.

He was still unable to work out how Hermione was feeling. She really was completely unreadable. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing.

‘Would you mind if I walked down to the greenhouses with you later?’ he asked.

Hermione smiled again. ‘Of course not. I’ll meet you here.’ She gestured to the entrance hall they were walking through on their way to the Great Hall. ‘I’ve got Ancient Runes just before that, though, so I might be cutting it a bit fine as it’s a bit of a slog from the sixth floor.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got Divination,’ Draco said with a grimace. ‘And it’s with Trelawny in the North Tower so it’ll probably take me just as long to get back here.’

‘I don’t know why you took that again,’ Hermione said in amusement. ‘You know it’s all crap.’

‘The stuff Firenze teaches can be quite interesting,’ Draco said. ‘Anyway, I need Divination to become an Auror.’

Hermione looked at Draco interestedly. ‘Is that what you want to do, then?’ she asked. ‘I thought you only needed O.W.L.s for that. That’s what Harry, Ron and Neville are training to do.’

Draco shrugged. ‘I haven’t really decided yet, to be honest. I was debating going to University, hence the need for the N.E.W.T.s, and better qualifications mean I could become an Unspeakable.’

Hermione gave a shiver, remembering her time at the Department of Mysteries and the strange and awful things she had seen there.

‘Rather you than me,’ she said honestly. ‘I definitely wouldn’t want to work in the Department of Mysteries. There’s some freaky old stuff in there.’

‘I think it might be quite interesting,’ Draco said. ‘But as I say, I haven’t really decided yet. I suppose it’ll depend on how well I do in my exams. What about you?’

‘I haven’t decided either,’ Hermione admitted. ‘I keep swinging between training to be a Healer and going to work at the Ministry of Magic, doing something to help Magical Creatures or something. But like you, I’m waiting on my exams.’

‘You’ll ace them,’ Draco said, grinning. ‘You always do.’

‘There’s plenty of time for things to go wrong, though,’ Hermione said. ‘There are still almost four months to go before we take them.’

‘Don’t be so pessimistic. We’re both going to do fine,’ Draco replied. They had entered the Great Hall now. ‘Well, lunch awaits. I’ll see you in the entrance hall later, my love.’

Before Hermione even had a chance to realise what he was doing, Draco planted a small kiss on her lips before dropping her arm and heading towards the Slytherin table, leaving her free to go to the Gryffindor one. It had been smooth and pretty unobtrusive and Hermione realised she actually didn’t mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After Herbology Hermione and Draco left the greenhouses and walked down the hill, eventually finding their way to the Quidditch pitch. As it was currently not being used, they climbed the nearest supporters’ tower and sat in the stands, finally ready for their talk.

‘Are you warm enough?’ Draco asked solicitously. It was absolutely freezing and looked like it might snow, but hopefully, it would hold off, at least until they had finished their discussion and got back to the castle.

Hermione nodded. ‘I’m okay at the moment. It’s not so windy in here and that’s the worst thing, I think.’

There was an awkward silence. Hermione looked at her gloved hands for a moment then back up at Draco. ‘I want to be totally honest with you about my feelings, Draco,’ she told him. ‘After all, you were completely open with yours in everything you wrote in those diaries.’

‘I appreciate that,’ Draco said. He was feeling quite anxious now although he was loath to admit it, even to himself.

Hermione looked at Draco again for a moment, looking at the handsome man as if it was the first time she had ever really seen him. He had grown up so much, even in the last few months, just as they all had, the horror of what they’d had to live through shaping and aging them, changing them in ways they would never have anticipated. And here before her, for better or for worse, was the man with whom she would spend the rest of her life, the one who would care and provide for her, the one who would help her raise their children. And she now knew, too, without a shadow of a doubt that he would love and cherish her.

The time had come for her to step up to the plate and set in motion the beginning of the rest of their lives. She was a little scared, and she had been surprised to find a little excited at the prospect, but perhaps that, too, was only to be expected — excitement and fear, like love and hate, were two sides of the same coin.

‘I’ll be honest: I was completely shocked and more than a little unhappy when I discovered it was you who had petitioned for the marriage. I had absolutely no idea why you had done it and because of how things have always been between us I automatically assumed you had some nasty reason for doing it, although I’m sure you’re not surprised to hear that,’ Hermione began.

Draco shook his head but didn’t say anything.

‘When I discovered I’d been petitioned rather than just matched, my heart sank because it meant I’d been specifically targeted — and for what, I didn’t know. At first, I was worried that the petitioner, whoever he was, intended to kill me, knowing of the hatred some Pure-bloods still have for Muggle-borns, but that fear lessened a little once I learnt about the life spell. My fear then was that I wouldn’t be allowed to return to school to finish my education.’

‘I assume that’s why you were still wearing your uniform, was it?’ Draco cut in. ‘To remind your partner that you were still at school.’

Hermione nodded. ‘Not wanting to be paired, I hadn’t intended to dress up anyway, which annoyed Mrs Westcote; but as my match could have been anyone from Neville to Merlin, I thought the uniform might focus their mind on the fact that I was really too young to be married and should be at school.’

Draco gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. ‘I don’t think nineteen is considered too young, Hermione, not even these days.’

Hermione ignored the jibe and continued, ‘It was then I discovered you were the petitioner and I was mortified — and very confused. I was so sure of your hatred I just couldn’t believe you would willingly bond yourself to me for life unless there was something in it for you, and some way to get rid of me. After all, there was no way you would want to spend the rest of your life stuck with me, one of the people you hated most in the world and I certainly had no desire to spend my life with you.

‘The whole thing suddenly became a nightmare. I had been forced away from the man I was in love with to be tied, quite literally as it turned out, to someone who had the power to make my life a living hell. It wasn’t even as if we were just acquaintances who had no strong feelings about each other either way — we were sworn enemies and neither of us had ever had anything pleasant to say about the other. It was impossible that this union could ever be anything other than destructive and painful.

‘When you told me you were in love with me, the idea was completely farcical and I couldn’t entertain it even for one moment. It was so clearly a lie that I couldn’t believe you had actually said it out loud. Okay, so the Ministry officials might have been convinced; after all, they didn’t know us or our history and were happy to grab onto any sign that the petition hadn’t been a mistake. But everyone who had ever met us prior to that point knew of the animosity — no, hatred — between us, and this sudden declaration from you didn’t make any sense at all.

‘But I had absolutely no choice but to agree to the ceremony. Although I felt sick to my stomach at the idea of us having to live as a couple, to have to suffer so many years of unhappiness, it was still better than the alternative. Whilst you had told me again and again over the years that I didn’t belong in the wizarding world, I’ve always known it was the only place I’ve ever fitted, the only place I truly felt comfortable. To have to spend the rest of my life in exile, unable to see my friends and to have to live without magic, was unthinkable.

‘Then you told me about the obedience rule and suddenly it all seemed to fall into place. I realised that you had obviously known all about the bonding ceremony and had seen how you could use it to your advantage, by trapping me into a marriage that you could then control. Bound to obey you, I could be forced to do anything — you could hurt, embarrass and degrade me, you could force me to do things I would never do of my own free will, but you couldn’t kill me. That, at least, was out of your power, although once I thought about it I could potentially see a way around that, too.

‘You have no idea how much I cursed myself then for not having checked what I was letting myself in for because you were right: at the time of the ceremony I _was_ unaware of what the words meant. I had assumed that because it was a new law, it was a new ceremony. That was foolish of me.’

‘I don’t understand why you didn’t research it, though,’ Draco said. ‘It was easy enough to do. And I was sure you would have done. After all, that’s what you do — research things. I had been waiting for you to demand a change to the wording before the ceremony started and would have been happy to agree to that although I’m not sure the Ministry would have changed it, to be honest; but when you didn’t say anything I wasn’t sure what to do. I assumed you weren’t bothered and so I said nothing. It really didn’t matter to me. I had no intention of making you obey me. So why _didn’t_ you research it?’

Hermione shook her head. ‘I was in denial,’ she admitted. ‘Although we had completed those questionnaires, I didn’t honestly think I would get matched with anyone else. I was already in a relationship with a Pure-blood and the Ministry of Magic had to be aware of that, considering we had been pretty high-profile over the last few years.’

‘Is that why Weasley didn’t petition for you?’ Draco asked. ‘I couldn’t believe it when they told me I was the only one. It would have been the first thing I would have done if I was in his shoes.’

Hermione sighed. ‘We didn’t really think about it, to be honest. Although we had read about the law in the newspaper it didn’t really strike home that it would apply to us until the questionnaire came through and by then I’d forgotten all about the petitioning, or maybe I just thought it wasn’t valid any longer.’ She frowned. ‘We would have got married eventually, you know, Ron and I, but we weren’t even considering it because I was going to come back here first. It was just a sort of unspoken agreement. It never occurred to me that I would get paired while I was still at school.

‘When I got the letter that told me I had been matched I was so shocked I didn’t tell anyone. At first, I couldn’t believe it had happened, but then I began to wonder whether the Ministry had matched me with Ron and were just tying up loose ends. I had wanted to wait a few years before getting married — finish my education and get settled in a job before getting involved in all that — but bringing it forward wasn’t that much of a problem. But when it became clear that Ron hadn’t received a letter too, I withdrew back into denial once more.

‘I still didn’t tell anyone about it. I couldn’t face hearing a lot of sympathetic twaddle and platitudes, and I wasn’t sure how Ron — or Harry, for that matter — would react to the news. But instead of doing the sensible thing and researching the ceremony, I tried instead, to pretend it wasn’t going to happen. Instead of looking at what was actually going to take place during the bonding ritual, I convinced myself there had been a mistake and that once I explained about my relationship with Ron I would be released from the pairing and would be able to marry him instead. It never occurred to me that the Ministry wouldn’t consider him a suitable match for me, or that someone — you — would have petitioned for me.’

 Hermione frowned. ‘I was stupid and naive. Although as I said, knowing about the ceremony wouldn’t have made any difference. It probably would just have upset me more to know in advance that I was being trapped, especially once I realised it was you I was going to have to marry. There was just no way I was going to leave the wizarding world.’

‘I am really glad you decided that,’ Draco admitted. He grinned at Hermione. ‘When you didn’t answer immediately I did wonder for a moment whether you had decided to reject me, whether you really hated me so much that you couldn’t even contemplate ever being my wife. You see, I had been counting on your determination to prove me wrong about your place in the wizarding world to seal the deal. I knew that as things stood you would never accept me outside of the petition, but now you either had to accept me as your husband or admit that all along I had been right and you had no place here. You have no idea how relieved I was when you said yes.’

Hermione remembered the sigh Draco had given at her agreement. That, too, made sense now.

‘What would you have done if I had said no?’ she asked curiously.

Draco laughed. ‘You would have given me no choice,’ he said honestly. ‘I would have had to give up my wand, as well.’

Hermione looked at him with a mixture of surprise and scepticism. Even after everything she had read it appeared she was still having problems believing the sincerity of Draco’s feelings for her.

‘Do you really expect me to believe that?’ she asked. ‘You’re a Pure-blood wizard with a lineage that goes back centuries.’

Draco shrugged. ‘Maybe, but it’s true. When are you going to get it into your pretty head that I wasn’t trying to marry you for some wicked Pure-blood reason, but because I love you? I wasn’t going to stop loving you just because you refused to marry me. It doesn’t work like that, unfortunately. I would have been devastated if you had said no, but I would just have seen it as another challenge to overcome.’ He took Hermione’s gloved hands in his, holding them loosely as he looked into her eyes and added, ‘Do you think you would have finally got the hint then, if I had given all this up for you?’

Hermione turned her head away and blinked furiously, trying to clear the tears that had sprung into her eyes at Draco’s words. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Despite all the journals she had read and everything she now knew to be true about Draco, this one statement, more than any other, had touched her heart and threatened to break her. She turned back to face him, pulling one of her hands from his to wipe away the tears that had spilt from her eyes.

‘I don’t love you, Draco,’ she told him honestly, although to admit it to him gave her pain.

Draco nodded his head, looking serious. ‘I know that, my love,’ he said quietly. ‘But I think you can. It will just take a bit of time.’ He stroked her hand comfortingly and gave her a small smile. ‘And we have all the time in the world.’

‘How can you be so understanding?’ Hermione asked. ‘You’re never this reasonable.’

Draco shrugged. ‘I can afford to be. It’s not like I’m going to lose you and I’m aware the situation will take a bit of adjusting to for you. I’ve been going through it for the last seven years and I’m not sure I’m completely adjusted to it myself.’

‘So what made you decide to do it?’ Hermione asked. ‘What made you decide to petition for me after all those years of trying to pretend you didn’t like me?’

Draco thought for a moment before replying. When he spoke his voice was low and dark. ‘When you were brought to Malfoy Manor I didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, it was so good to see you and to know you were still alive — we hadn’t been sure you were until that point. But at the same time, I was filled with terror that you had been brought to us and the Dark Lord would finally be in control once he killed Potter. I didn’t know whether he was this mythical ‘Chosen One’ that everyone kept talking about, but whatever he was, it seemed he was our only hope of stopping Voldemort and by that time there really was nothing I wanted more in the world than for that . . . _monster_ to be stopped.

‘From the moment you entered the room I knew who you were. I would have known it was you even if I had been blindfolded: I recognised your scent. I really adore the way you smell, my love, all warm and spicy with just a hint of vanilla. It’s almost intoxicating but not overpowering. You weren’t in disguise, so I got to look at your lovely face — and even then, in the midst of all that despair, it thrilled me: one moment of light in all the darkness.

‘You did a good job on disguising Potter, though. I had to look twice to see it was him, even though there was no one else it could have been. I racked my brain trying to think of a way to help you all escape. I didn’t want my father to realise who you were, knowing how much he detested you, especially after you had helped send him to Azkaban. Potter would be saved for the Dark Lord, but he would have had no qualms about killing you. But before I could come up with a plan they were asking me to identify Potter.’

Draco broke off and looked into the distance for a moment. He breathed heavily as he thought about what had happened that night. Hermione stroked his hand this time, knowing that reliving the experience was painful for him. She didn’t need to read his diary to know that.

‘It’s all right, Draco,’ she said quietly. ‘I understand.’

Draco shook his head and looked at her again. He had tears in his eyes now. He grimaced. ‘Those months with Voldemort . . . they were terrible.’ His voice, already so low, sounded haunted. ‘I had never realised how bad it could be. When my father wanted me to identify Potter . . . .’ He gave a huge sigh and looked at Hermione, his hands gripping hers tighter. ‘It would have been so easy to say yes, to confirm my father’s suspicions,’ he admitted. ‘But good for us or not, what would that have meant for everyone else?’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Voldemort was a maniac and giving him Potter was the last thing the wizarding world needed. It didn’t matter how much I’d always hated Potter, I needed to help him, but I was too much of a coward to really help so I just told my father I couldn’t be sure.’

‘But you bought us a bit of time, Draco,’ Hermione said gently. ‘If you had just said yes, they would have killed Ron and me immediately and Dobby wouldn’t have had the chance to rescue us. Because of your refusal to tell them who we were, they were worried they had got the wrong people and had to wait for Voldemort’s confirmation. That wait gave us the time we needed to escape.’

Draco looked bleakly at Hermione. ‘But if I had said yes, Aunt Bellatrix wouldn’t have tortured you. She wouldn’t have hurt you.’

Hermione gave a small, bitter laugh. ‘You must know that’s not true. She always intended to hurt me. That’s what she enjoyed doing.’ She leant forward to look deep into Draco’s eyes. ‘There was absolutely nothing you could do to stop that from happening, Draco, so please stop feeling guilty about it. I don’t blame you and you shouldn’t blame yourself.’ She smiled at him, watching until he returned it with a small weak smile of his own. Then, ‘The petition?’ she reminded him gently.

‘Once the Dark Lord was gone, everything changed,’ Draco said, his voice brightening at the change of subject. ‘I had already realised the whole Pure-blood thing was complete bollocks, that everything my family had taught me was one hundred percent wrong, and I realised I wasn’t stupid or sick for being in love with you, that it was actually quite natural for me to be attracted to the most beautiful and talented witch I had ever met. When I managed to get my brain around that revelation, the way ahead was clear.

‘I knew you had fancied Weasley for years, although I had never been able to work out why. He wasn’t as intelligent as you or as talented and he obviously didn’t fancy you; in fact, I always thought he was gay. But then I saw that had changed at some point during that last year and I discovered you and he had finally become a couple.

‘I will admit I was disappointed at the news, but when I found out you were returning to Hogwarts and he wasn’t, I rallied. Without Weasley there to interfere, I could set about convincing you that you should be with me instead of him; and charming as I can be when the mood takes me, I was sure that once you had seen the other side of me, the side I had kept hidden from you for all those years, you would realise we were made for each other.

‘I, too, had forgotten about the marriage law until the questionnaire arrived, otherwise I might have petitioned you sooner. Having got nowhere with trying to get you to notice me more favourably, once I had been reminded of the petitioning process it seemed obvious it was the way to go. I was sure Weasley would already have petitioned for you although it seemed strange that if that was the case you hadn’t already been married. I supposed you might have been delaying it until you left school. The Ministry contact I spoke to told me that in the event of multiple petitions being made it would be decided by the screening process and I was convinced I was a better match for you than Weasley. But then I discovered I was the only petitioner.’

‘But aren’t you worried about your parents?’ Hermione asked. ‘They won’t be happy about this, surely?’

‘No, they won’t,’ Draco said blithely. He ran his hands through his hair. ‘But I really don’t care, to be honest. As soon as I realised they had been talking crap for the whole of my life I stopped worrying about what they thought. What are they going to do? If they disown me it’s not going to be a huge problem, is it? I’m not stupid, so I won’t have a problem getting a job. I expect my mother will just be grateful we didn’t decide to go off and live in the Muggle world together — and I don’t really give a toss about what my father thinks anymore.’

Hermione shivered. She was getting cold now.

‘Do you want to go back up to the castle?’ Draco asked. ‘It’s bloody freezing out here. We could go and get some hot chocolate from the kitchen if you want.’

Hermione nodded gratefully and stood up, stamping her feet to get some feeling back into them. ‘That sounds like a great idea. I think I’ve got frostbite in my feet.’ They quickly exited the stand and began to make their way back towards the castle.

‘You know, it was very strange reading your diaries,’ Hermione said as they walked rapidly up the hill. ‘They were so descriptive that I could remember you exactly as you were at the time you wrote them. But then there was this whole other dimension to you that you kept hidden. Sometimes it was really hard to reconcile the two.’

‘Did they alter your perception of me at all?’ Draco asked, trying not to sound anxious.

Hermione looked at him musingly. ‘Well, I now know you’re a sex maniac and a pervert.’

Draco was about to retort angrily when he realised Hermione was smiling. She was joking with him. That was hopeful.

‘Not really a pervert,’ he said playfully. ‘I just have an active imagination and a healthy interest in sex.’

Hermione raised her eyebrows archly. ‘I found your obsession with me to be a little disturbing, actually,’ she admitted. ‘I’m not entirely sure which is more worrying, the fact you were so obsessed or the fact you managed to keep it completely hidden for all that time.’

‘Do I scare you, then?’ Draco asked as they arrived in the entrance hall of the castle, worried that all the diaries had done was push Hermione further away from him.

Hermione shook her head. She stopped and took his hands.

‘Draco, I honestly want to try to make this marriage work with you, but this whole fancying thing is just really hard for me to get my head round. You need to give me some time to get used to it. I’m trying to forget the past and embrace the future, but it’s difficult. We will get there, I’m sure of it, but I don’t think it’s going to happen overnight.’

‘I’m good at waiting,’ Draco said, ‘and I’m certain you’re worth it.’

‘That’s the other thing that worries me,’ Hermione said. She undid the clasp of her cloak, unwrapped the scarf from around her neck and pulled off her gloves, tucking them into the pocket of her robes.

‘What’s that?’ Draco asked.

‘You have been creating all these hugely unrealistic fantasies about me for years. I’m just worried that you are going to be sorely disappointed when you realise I’m not actually like that in real life.’

Draco smiled. ‘I know full well what you’re like, my love. I’ve lived with you for years, even if it hasn’t been as a lover. I know I got a little carried away with some of my fantasies about you, but I also know there is no artifice in you, so I already know how perfect you are.’

Hermione snorted loudly. ‘Oh, please! You’ve never had any qualms about pointing out my faults and you’ve done so regularly over the years, so don’t give me all that perfect crap because I know it’s a lie.’

‘But you are perfect for me,’ Draco argued laughingly, ‘even if you are an annoying know-it-all and have the worst hair ever.’

They had stopped in front of a picture of a bowl of fruit and Draco reached out to tickle the pear, turning the green doorknob that appeared after it had giggled and squirmed for a few seconds. He ushered Hermione into the kitchen ahead of him.

They were immediately surrounded by house-elves, all eager to serve them. Hermione still found this servitude a little distasteful, but she knew the elves were happy. There had been a time when she had tried to free them by leaving hand-knitted hats and socks around the Gryffindor common room, but during one of their heart-to-hearts in the tent after Ron had left them, Harry had told her how Dobby had ended up collecting them all, as he was the only one who would go in there anymore because of what she was trying to do. She had been upset at first but had eventually realised that just as Pure-bloods like the Malfoys had been so heavily indoctrinated into their hatred of Muggles, so had the house-elves been enslaved into serving wizards. She was still sure she could help them, but it would take more than a few badly knitted hats.

Draco asked for hot chocolate for them both and they moved deeper into the kitchen, taking the offered seats by the fire. They both removed their robes and cardigans before sitting down; the heat of the kitchen was almost stifling after the cold they had just come in from.

A house-elf came over to them and offered a plate containing a large quantity of cupcakes covered in frosting and glittery stars. Draco took one but Hermione waved them away. As she did so she noticed her wedding ring glinting as the firelight caught it and remembered that she had intended to ask Draco about the runes. She waited until they had received their chocolate and settled back comfortably in their seats by the hearth.

‘Tell me about the rings,’ she said quietly.

Draco’s heart skipped a beat at her words. He had been hoping she would ask him about the rings ever since the wedding. The Ministry official had understood immediately how special they were, but Hermione had not even seemed to notice them. He wondered how she would feel once she knew about their history. He took a sip of his chocolate before answering.

‘They are Goblin-made gold. They were a special commission.’

‘Commissioned by you?’ Hermione asked quietly.

She looked thoughtfully at Draco. She knew from her dealings with Griphook how rare and expensive Goblin-made items were. Expensive enough if Draco had just bought them, but to have them commissioned would have made them prohibitively so, even for someone with Draco’s family’s wealth, and would take his obsession with her to a whole new chilling level.

Draco shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t commission them.’ He didn’t notice Hermione relaxing a little at these words. ‘They were commissioned by the druidess Cliodna, who intended to use them during her wedding to her Muggle lover Ciabhán. Unfortunately, Cliodna died tragically before the wedding could take place, so the Goblins kept the rings safe until a suitable home could be found for them. They had been looking after them for over eight hundred years when I bought them. As soon as I saw them I knew they were perfect for us.’

‘Cliodna?’ Hermione said in amazement. ‘They must have cost you an absolute fortune, Draco.’

Draco shrugged. ‘They were worth it. They embody everything I wanted from our relationship. Cliodna was Pure-blood and she was in love with a Muggle.’

‘But even so—’

Draco grinned. ‘I don’t care about the money, my love. I wanted us to have these rings. Anyway, I paid for them with money from my allowance, so really we have my father to thank for them.’

‘They are stunning,’ Hermione said honestly. ‘They contain runes, don’t they, inside and out?’

Draco nodded. ‘Each of the rings contains two runic spells, one for love and fertility, the other for happiness and prosperity. Cliodna devised the spells herself. Each ring was very specifically designed.’ He looked across at Hermione. ‘I hope the runes work for us just as well as they would have worked for Cliodna and Ciabhán.’

‘I bet your father will be over the moon to discover he’s paid for rings that tie us together even more than we already are,’ Hermione said.

Draco laughed loudly. ‘I think I can safely say my father wouldn’t be all that impressed if he knew where my allowance had gone, but as we’re already bonded for life the rings won’t make that much of a difference to him.’


	6. Chapter 6

‘So can I take it you no longer just think of me as an evil Pure-blood Death Eater?’ Draco asked after they left the kitchen.

‘I am trying,’ Hermione said honestly. ‘It’s hard to let all those bad things that happened between us just slip away, but I really am trying to see you as my handsome and loving husband rather than as the mean bastard I have always considered you.’

Draco smirked. ‘Well, that’s a pretty good start. Hopefully, it will get easier as time goes on and you realise just how wonderful I really am.’

Hermione gave a snort at this. ‘Yeah, right . . . wonderful,’ she muttered. ‘I can see there being a problem, though.’

‘Just one?’ Draco asked in amusement. ‘We really are doing well if you only have one problem with me.’

‘I am sure there are plenty of problems I haven’t thought of yet,’ Hermione retorted, ‘but this one isn’t just you. One of the things you mention time and again in your diaries is how much you detest Ron and Harry and I am well aware the feeling is mutual. But they are my best friends and you’re going to have to learn to get along with them, otherwise it will always be a massive problem between us as I have no intention of stopping seeing them — or any of the other Weasleys, for that matter.’ She broke off for a moment, then added sadly, ‘Although I don’t think Ron’s going to like me very much once he discovers we are married. Actually, I don’t how Harry will react, either.’

Draco stroked her arm sympathetically. ‘I know it’s going to be a bit difficult to begin with, my love, but I am sure they will come round to the idea soon enough. They are not going to give up all those years of friendship with you over something so trivial, not after everything you have been through together.’

‘Trivial!’ Hermione said, her voice rising several octaves. She stopped walking. ‘I don’t think Ron is going to consider the fact that I am married to his worst enemy, because you requested it, trivial. Do you think he will understand how you just walked in and took me away from him? I’m betting he won’t — and I don’t think Harry will be so forgiving, either.’

As always happened when attacked by Hermione, Draco just couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice as he retaliated, ‘Well, I wouldn’t have been able to just walk in and  _‘take you’_ , as you put it, if Weasley had bothered to petition for you himself. But he didn’t, did he, Hermione? That makes me question what his feelings for you actually are. How could he really be in love with you and not do everything in his power to stop you from being matched with someone else? If he had petitioned the Ministry of Magic as soon as the law was passed, you would have been married before I even realised I could petition for you, and you wouldn’t be feeling so guilty that you’ve chosen me over him.’

Hermione slapped Draco hard around the face and glared at him.

‘How dare you. I do  _not_  feel guilty. I didn’t  _choose_  you, I was forced into this situation by a stupid law and by you foisting yourself upon me, which I didn’t want or ask for.’ She grimaced as she tried to calm herself down, blinking away the tears of anger she could feel forming. ‘And how dare you cast aspersions on my relationship with Ron. You have absolutely no idea what we have been through or how we feel for each other, and you don’t know how much it hurts that I’m not going to be with him again.’

‘I really don’t understand what it is you see in that prat. I never have done,’ Draco said, still smarting from the slap. ‘He’s inferior to you in so many ways and has never treated you the way you deserve to be treated, yet you idolise him.’

‘Hah! Listen to you criticising Ron for not treating me properly,’ Hermione raged. ‘Do you think you have? Is it any wonder I didn’t want to be married to you after the way you’ve treated me all these years? But I — had — no — choice.’ She emphasised the last four words bitterly.

Draco counted to ten before he spoke again, trying desperately to calm himself down. Things had been going well between him and Hermione and he had really felt they were making progress. But if he didn’t diffuse this argument they would be back at square one before they knew it.

‘Okay, so I will admit my behaviour towards you hasn’t been great in the past, but I have changed and you’ve seen how much I love you. I am aware you don’t like it, Hermione, but you need to be realistic about this. I know you thought you would be playing happy families with Weasley, but that was never going to happen once the marriage law was introduced, petition or no petition. If Weasley had petitioned for you before the questionnaire went out, you might just have had a shot. But as soon as the matching began, any chance the two of you had of remaining a couple was gone. Even if we had both petitioned for you, the matching would still have sent you my way, not his. Mr Threadwoody told me we had a very high compatibility rating and I don’t believe you and Ron had that.’

Hermione gave a small shake of her head to admit this was true, but she still glowered at Draco.

‘You can be as angry with me as you want, my love, but the fact remains that we were always going to be matched with each other.’ Draco reached out to stroke Hermione’s cheek gently. ‘At least with me petitioning for you, it gives you the excuse you need to bring your friends round to your side. As you said, you didn’t have any choice; and although Weasley will quite understandably be upset about what has happened, he will never need to know the two of you weren’t considered compatible by the Ministry if you don’t tell him. Instead, he will continue to hate me for a while for forcing you into this marriage, and then eventually, I hope, once he sees how happy we are together, he will realise there is no point in being angry about it any longer.’ He sighed. ‘I expect Potter will be angry on both of his best friends’ behalves, but he will come round too — probably quicker than Weasley will, as he’s not directly affected by it.

‘I know you are unhappy about this, but there is nothing we can do to change the situation and arguing about it isn’t going to help. You’re right that I don’t like either of your friends, but at the same time, none of us have ever tried to get to know each other properly without our prejudices getting in the way. I swear to you, Hermione, I will do everything I can to get on with your friends just as long as they don’t purposely provoke or attack me.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘It’s the best I can offer.’

Hermione looked silently at Draco for several long minutes. Once again, just when things seemed as if they were about to terminally explode Draco had backed down and was being reasonable. She knew what he was saying was true; hadn’t she told herself the same thing last night? But it sounded so harsh coming from Draco’s mouth rather than as a thought in her mind. It made it seem more real and more final. But at least Draco was trying to calm things down. He was so easy to get annoyed with and once riled she found it hard not to go on the attack as she always had in the past. And she had hit him again. She definitely hadn’t meant to do that, but the emotions that had been building up inside her since she had read his diaries had needed an outlet and that had been it.

He was right, too, about giving her an excuse with which to fob off her friends. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than being truthful to Ron, which in the long term would hurt him more than her being snatched away by Draco. It was good of Draco to allow it, and he had promised to try to make friends with Harry and Ron as well. She certainly couldn’t guarantee that her friends would be so accommodating.

But now, what she had been intending to do seemed harder than ever.  _Love and hate are two sides of the same coin_ , she thought desperately,  _and you can channel one into the other. You can do this Hermione — you have to do this_. But she couldn’t trust herself to speak, worried that something hurtful would emerge even though that was the last thing she wanted or needed now.

Draco waited for Hermione to say something to him. He knew he had gone over the top again — damn his stupid temper — but he had tried to recover the situation. She was looking at him so intently, but as ever, he couldn’t read her at all. What was she thinking about?

‘Talk to me, my love,’ he said quietly, taking hold of Hermione’s hand. She didn’t stop him or try to pull away, which Draco took as a good sign.

‘You were right about the matching,’ Hermione admitted quietly. She didn’t look at Draco. ‘Mrs Westcote said Ron and I were only a moderate match at best. I guess that meant I would be likely to have been paired off with half the country before I ended up with Ron. But it hurt so much, after being in love with him for so many years, that I didn’t want to admit it. She told me, too, what a great score you and I had and how lucky I was to be getting someone I was so compatible with.’ She felt Draco squeeze her hand and looked up, gazing into his beautiful ice-grey eyes. ‘I am so sorry I hit you, Draco. I didn’t mean to do that.’

‘Yes, you did,’ Draco said. ‘And I probably deserved it. If not for that, then for all the horrible things I did to you over the years. It’s pathetic when I think of how my parents brainwashed me into their beliefs.’

‘But that’s the point, you were brainwashed, so they don’t really count. Harry, Ron and I had no such excuse, yet we persecuted you just as strongly as you ever attacked us.’

Draco stroked her cheek again. ‘I put up with it for you,’ he said.

Hermione nodded and gave a small, wry smile. ‘And you turned it into one of your many perverted fantasies, as I recall.’

Draco shrugged. ‘I had to do something with all that pent-up frustration. Between driving me mad with being Muggle-born, being a mouthy and annoying bint, and being so damn sexy, it’s a wonder I didn’t explode.’

‘It’s lucky you had Pansy to help you out, then,’ Hermione said.

Draco smirked slyly. ‘Are you jealous?’

‘No, of course I’m not,’ Hermione said. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous.’

‘Hmmm. I’m not sure you’re not protesting too much on that,’ Draco said. He smirked again.  Hermione’s eyes flashed anger for a moment and before he set her off again he relented. ‘You didn’t have much to be jealous of,’ he admitted. ‘I wasn’t all that nice to Pansy most of the time. I actually feel a bit bad now about the way I treated her when I was trying to get you out of my mind.’

‘Well, that’s a good thing, anyway,’ Hermione said. She was much calmer now. Draco looked at her questioningly. ‘It proves you’ve grown up and got nicer.’ After a moment she added, ‘I think we have still got quite a way to go with getting our relationship on track, though.’

‘I think you might be right. And we are both going to have to work at controlling the bitching, as well,’ Draco said. ‘I know I find it far too easy to snipe back when you say something that annoys me — and you’re no slouch at that either, as we have both just proved.’

‘It’s not always bitching, though,’ Hermione retaliated. ‘Sometimes it is valid criticism.’

‘Hmmm. I think we are just going to have to get used to the fact that we argue sometimes,’ Draco said. ‘I know we were highly matched because we were similar, but I think we might be a bit too similar in some ways.’

‘Well, we are both stubborn and both of us will have to learn to compromise. And I know that’s something I’m not very good at,’ Hermione admitted.

‘I’m sure we will manage,’ Draco told her with a smile.

Hermione thought for a moment he was going to pull her into one of those kisses he always managed to catch her out with. She took a deep breath, speaking before he had a chance to make his move.

‘I think maybe it’s time to start now,’ she said quietly.  She could feel her heart hammering and the butterflies were back in her stomach, but she had to do this. She gripped Draco’s hand tighter, leading him down the corridor back towards the entrance hall.  ’Come with me.’

‘But where—’ Draco began.

Hermione turned and put her free hand over his mouth for a moment, smiling as she shushed him. Draco stayed silent and watched interestedly as she led him through the entrance hall and down a corridor he had never been down before. One staircase and another corridor later they reached a door. Hermione opened it and leant forward to push the door wide, revealing the room inside. She gestured for Draco to enter. Draco looked around the room in astonishment. He hadn’t expected anything like this.

‘I had a word with Professor McGonagall this morning,’ Hermione said quietly. She entered the room behind him. ‘I guess she had the house-elves move our belongings here already.’

‘Hermione.’ Draco was almost lost for words.

Hermione smiled. ‘I think I was being a bit stubborn,’ she said, looking at Draco. ‘After all, we are married.’

Draco pulled Hermione to him and hugged her tightly as he continued to look around their new bedroom. As she had said, their belongings had already been placed there, the mixture of Slytherin and Gryffindor combining rather better than he would have anticipated. He could feel his heart beating faster at the realisation that his beautiful wife was finally doing what he had dreamed of for so long. By moving to the shared bedroom she was giving herself to him, was committing herself to their relationship.

His lips touched hers tentatively at first but then, taking a chance that this time she wouldn’t resist him, became more passionate. And she didn’t resist, instead, giving herself over to it just as fully as he. And as the kiss finished, Hermione realised that this time it wasn’t at all strange; in fact, it was kind of wonderful.

‘I really do love you,’ Draco told her sincerely.  He could feel the arousal building inside him, his desire for her fanned by the kiss. Surely it could only be a matter of time before they made love now.

‘I know,’ Hermione whispered. She stroked his face as she spoke.

Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket and waving it the door closed, sealing the two of them in the room. Smiling again, Hermione leant in and kissed Draco, gently nibbling on his bottom lip before he pulled her once again into a more passionate exchange.

When the kissing subsided Hermione moved out of Draco’s arms, to his disappointment, and moved towards the bed, where she put her wand down on the cabinet beside it. She turned to look at him once more. Hermione looked so alluring, and also maybe a touch scared, and a wave of desire surged through Draco that was so strong he had the urge to grab her once more, to pull her to him and kiss her, to push her down onto the bed and—

The little voice inside his head chastised him for such thoughts. As much as he needed her, if he acted like that he would scare Hermione away before he even had a chance to show her how much pleasure he could give her. He had to calm it down and go at her pace, however slow that might be. It would be worth it in the long run.

Hermione walked towards him slowly, the smile still on her face although she looked a little nervous. She was undoing the buttons of her blouse as she walked.

Draco swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off Hermione’s hands. She was revealing herself to him — the impressive breasts he had studied so intently for so many years, and fantasised about playing with for just as long, were finally going to be revealed to him.

She stood almost close enough to touch and moved her hands away from the now open blouse. Her breasts, still encased in a plain white cotton bra, were possibly the most arousing thing Draco had ever seen. He couldn’t help the small strangled cry that escaped his lips, desire mixed with frustration at his need to touch her. For a moment longer he looked at her, trying to calm his pounding heart, then once again he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply.

He held Hermione tight against his chest, feeling those soft breasts he so desperately wanted to touch pressed against him through their clothes. As they kissed once more, his hands pulled off Hermione’s blouse without any resistance from her. His heart soared. He was so close now. Reaching around he unclasped her bra, an easy enough undertaking with all his previous experience in such matters. As his hands found the straps of the bra and pulled them down her arms, Hermione stepped back and out of the bra and he got his first sight of her naked breasts.

She was absolutely perfect!

Although he had spent years studying her curves and had fantasised repeatedly about what she would look like naked, Hermione topless was enough to take Draco’s breath away. Not because of her breasts themselves, although they were truly magnificent, but because of what they represented. Need coursed through Draco so painfully it hurt.

Hermione looked at Draco anxiously, as if she was worried about his reaction.

‘Oh, my love.’ Draco’s ability to speak properly was gone again, overwhelmed by the terrible, aching need.

Hermione moved closer again, back within his arms, although he wasn’t yet holding her. She leant forward slightly and kissed his cheek gently.

‘Touch me,’ she whispered, so quietly that if he hadn’t been so sensitive to her Draco would have missed it.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into the deepest kiss he had so far bestowed. His free hand slid up to grasp one of the fleshy mounds and his palm felt her nipple growing as he squeezed. He groaned with pleasure and let go of Hermione so he could play with the other breast, too, both hands now kneading at the soft pliable skin, fingers pinching the nipples that stiffened at his touch.

Hermione gave a small moan and threw her head back, her eyes closed. Draco leant in and kissed her throat, placing gentle butterfly kisses all over her neck, his hands still caressing and squeezing.

‘Gods, you’re perfect,’ he whispered, needing Hermione to know just how much he adored her.

Opening her eyes, Hermione pulled his face up and kissed him briefly on the lips. ‘You mean my breasts are,’ she said with amusement.

‘They really are fantastic,’ Draco admitted as he pinched her nipples, causing her to give a small hiss.

‘Well, you certainly wrote about them enough,’ Hermione said.

‘But I didn’t think then that I would ever really get the chance to play with them,’ Draco said honestly.

‘They’re all yours,’ Hermione whispered in his ear. ‘I belong to you.’

Draco growled with desire at her pronouncement and touched his lips to Hermione’s throat again before moving lower, now sucking on a nipple as his hands moved further down her body. He found the waistband and worked on undoing her skirt, wanting more than ever to see Hermione completely naked. The skirt went, leaving her in her knickers, which he saw were the same plain white cotton as her bra.

He realised Hermione had been undoing his shirt whilst he had been undressing her and he shrugged out of it, enjoying the look Hermione gave him at the sight of his well-muscled chest. He wrapped his arms around her and began another kiss. He could feel his erection straining against his trousers, his arousal almost causing him to lose sight of the fact that he was supposed to be going slowly with Hermione.

‘I need you,’ he told her, his breathing heavy as he pressed against her. ‘I want to make love to you.’

‘Please,’ she breathed desperately. Draco wasn’t sure whether she was agreeing or trying to get him to back off.

His hand caught hers and guided it to his trousers, willing her to undo them. He wanted her to touch him, knowing her soft hands would feel so good. Understanding what he wanted, Hermione unbuttoned the trousers, hoping this would cause Draco to pause in his own endeavours. Although she had tried to prepare herself mentally for what was happening, it suddenly seemed to be going too quickly. Already embarrassed at her semi-nakedness, she wasn’t at all ready for what was to follow the loss of her knickers.

But she had to admit Draco did look good. He was far more muscular than she had expected, although he wasn’t some muscleman, and dressed as he was now, in only tight-fitting jersey shorts, she couldn’t help but appreciate just how hot he was. Perhaps being married to him wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Draco’s hands returned to her knickers now, slowly sliding them down her legs as they kissed. His hand stroked her bottom, enjoying the feel of her soft skin.

‘Let me see you,’ he whispered, aware that Hermione’s nervousness had increased as her clothes came off.

He guided her to the bed and pushed her down beneath him, his hands spreading her legs as he did so. He gazed at her wantonly. She was a little less groomed than he was used to, but at that moment Draco thought he had never been happier in his entire life. Hermione was beautiful, every part of her more gorgeous than he had ever imagined, and she was completely his.

Hermione was attempting to close her legs, embarrassed at the way Draco was looking at her, but he wouldn’t allow it.

‘You are beautiful,’ he told her. His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘And I want to kiss you.’

‘Please,’ Hermione pleaded quietly once again. She could feel herself blushing as Draco looked at her and was a little surprised to feel she could talk to him so openly. ‘I’ve never been naked with anyone before. I feel a bit uncomfortable.’

‘What — never?’ Draco sounded surprised. ‘But what about Krum?’

‘Viktor?’ Hermione was surprised herself now. ‘Why would Viktor have seen me naked?’

Draco snorted. ‘He’s a world-class Quidditch player and you are a beautiful woman, Hermione. Are you telling me you and he didn’t do anything?’

‘No, of course not,’ Hermione said primly. ‘We were friends, but that was it. We spent most of our time together in the Library. Anyway, I was only fifteen.’

‘What has that got to do with anything?’ Draco said. ‘You know how sexually active I was by then. So what about Weasley? I thought you were going out with him.’

‘I was, but we’ve only kissed.’

Draco snorted again. ‘I always thought he was gay. Does he actually realise you’re a woman?’

‘Of course he does,’ Hermione said. ‘But it took us seven years to get to the first kiss. I wasn’t really expecting much before getting married. And he is not gay.’

‘Are you sure? How can he not want this?’ Draco asked gesturing to Hermione’s body. ‘I never could understand why he wasn’t ripping your clothes off at every opportunity. I certainly would have, given even half a chance.’

‘Ronald isn’t a sex maniac like you,’ Hermione said archly.

‘No, he’s gay,’ Draco retorted.

‘He is not gay!’ Hermione said.

Draco shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter now, anyway. He missed his chance.’ He looked at Hermione. ‘So if you haven’t done anything with anyone else, that must mean you’re still a virgin.’

Hermione nodded her head. ‘Is that a problem?’ she asked.

‘Of course it isn’t,’ Draco said tenderly as he wrapped his arms around her once again. ‘In fact, it’s brilliant. You really are completely mine.’  As Draco kissed Hermione again he pushed her back down onto the bed. ‘You don’t have to do anything,’ he whispered softly between kisses. ‘Just lie there and let me pleasure you.’

Hermione demurred for a moment, but more kisses and Draco’s hands, now stroking over her whole body, soon changed her protestations to quiet moans of enjoyment. His mouth found one of her nipples and his tongue ran around and over the hardened bud, wetting it before sucking it into his mouth with a moan of pleasure. Hermione gasped, too, her head back once more, clearly relishing what was happening to her. Draco concentrated on playing with Hermione’s breasts, enjoying everything about them, from their size and feel to the way Hermione’s nipples puckered and grew when he squeezed them. But as fantastic as her breasts were, he needed more.

Further down his mouth went with more butterfly kisses down her ribs and over her stomach. The lower he went, the more Hermione attempted to move, to pull herself away from him, but he had her well-placed and her legs were still parted so he had no trouble following the line down. His tongue connected with her clitoris as he pushed through the dark hair on her mound. Hermione gasped as he licked, then sucked gently on the tiny bud; a louder whimper than the ones she had uttered before escaping her lips. Draco ran his hand down each leg in turn, pulling off her socks — her shoes having already been discarded when she dropped her wand.

His fingers traced a path up and down her legs as his mouth caressed the sensitive and now swelling area between her thighs. The scent of her that had always aroused him so was stronger now, muskier as her arousal grew, her skin becoming goose bumpy under his fingers. She tasted so good, so much better than any of his fantasies had ever predicted and Draco knew he was already addicted to his beautiful wife’s body.

Again and again, his tongue flicked, curling around the hard bud of her clit, tracing letters over it, making Hermione writhe and moan, her hands at first clenching then gripping at the pillows on the bed as down it went, sliding through the soft, sensitive lips to press at what lay within. Hermione cried out loudly, then and her hands gripped Draco’s shoulders, both pushing and pulling at him trying to move him.

‘Oh gods, stop, please,’ she begged, her voice ragged. Draco ignored her and continued licking, enjoying the taste of her arousal. Hermione bucked hard and gave a low throaty cry. ‘Oh, Draco . . . please . . . oh god . . . ahhh . . . it’s too nice.’

Draco chuckled. ‘Not too nice, my love,’ he said darkly, his mouth rising briefly to give Hermione a little respite. ‘You’re just about to come.’

He returned to his previous endeavours, his tongue moving faster now, keeping pace with Hermione’s cries. He wrapped his arms around her legs, pulling her closer, no longer allowing her anywhere to go but his mouth. Over and over Hermione begged him to stop, but Draco ignored her pleas, knowing she was about to climax. When she came, calling out his name between cries of pure bliss, Draco felt joyous and he knew that everything between them was going to work out perfectly.

Whilst Hermione lay recovering, he quickly removed his underpants. He was sure he had the biggest erection he had ever had in his life. His excitement level was off the scale, and now he had started he needed so much more from her. But still, he had to take it slowly. Had Hermione not been a virgin he was sure he would already have fucked her by now, so desperate was he to be inside his beautiful wife. But taking things slowly was incredibly erotic for him too; he was gaining more pleasure from this one encounter than he had from a hundred previous ones with other people.

Lying next to her on his side now, Draco stroked between Hermione’s legs, enjoying touching her. He slid a finger inside her, feeling the tight flesh give way as he pushed deeper. She was so tight. He moved the finger in and out and heard Hermione give a small sigh of pleasure.

‘Does that feel good, my love?’ he asked.

Hermione nodded. ‘Yes, oh yes.’

‘I want to be inside you,’ he whispered as he slid a second finger into her.

Hermione gave a small gasp, then stilled.

‘I am a bit nervous about that,’ she admitted a few seconds later.

‘You don’t need to be,’ Draco said. ‘I am not going to hurt you, my love, I promise.’

He took Hermione’s hand and wrapped it around his hard length, sighing happily as she gripped him of her own accord.

‘But you’re so big,’ Hermione said as she squeezed him.

Draco moaned, then showed her what he wanted her to do.

‘I wish I could say that was true,’ he said, for the first time in his life not feeling the urge to talk himself up, ‘but sadly I am only average size, although I think I’m harder than I have ever been.’ He moaned again. ‘Oh gods, that feels so good, Hermione!’

‘Well, I think it looks big,’ Hermione said. ‘Is it going to fit?’

Draco cradled her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly on the lips. ‘It’s going to fit perfectly,’ he said with a smile.

‘I have only ever imagined doing it with Ron,’ Hermione admitted as Draco pushed her down onto her back beneath him once more.

‘Do you want to close your eyes and pretend I’m him?’ Draco asked his voice a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

Hermione shook her head as she looked up at him. ‘No. You are my husband, not Ron, and it’s you I want to do it with.’

Hermione’s admission that she wanted Draco, so many years after he had first desired her, threatened to overwhelm him, and to cover he bent down to kiss her again.

‘It might hurt a little bit at first,’ he admitted apologetically. ‘But it won’t last long and then it will be wonderful, really wonderful.’ He stroked Hermione’s cheek as if to reassure her. ’I love you so much, Hermione,’ he whispered as he entered her for the first time.

Hermione gave a small cry, obviously in some discomfort and Draco stopped for a moment, giving her a chance to get used to him before he continued. Then she smiled at him and his heart, bursting with desire, almost melted and he resumed thrusting. But he was horrified to realise his excitement at finally getting to make love to Hermione had become over-excitement and after only a few seconds he was already on the verge of coming. He was completely humiliated at this turn of events. This had never happened to him before. Why did it have to happen now, when he was finally pleasuring Hermione?

‘Oh gods, I’m so sorry, my love,’ he said with embarrassment as he felt the tug, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it now. He thrust as hard and deep as he could, crying out with joy as he emptied his seed into Hermione.

Almost immediately he pulled away from her and sat up. He turned away; severely embarrassed and angry at himself for losing control so badly. What should have been completely perfect had been ruined, by him. What must she think of him?

Hermione was left laying there, a little confused. She was aware it had been a little quicker than she had anticipated. It had just started to feel quite good when Draco had come — but surely it hadn’t been that bad.

‘Draco,’ she said quietly, reaching out to stroke his back where he was still turned away from her. ‘What’s wrong?’ Draco didn’t reply. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ she asked worriedly.

‘Oh gods, no,’ Draco said hurriedly. ‘It wasn’t you. It was me who ruined it.’

Hermione sat up and turned to wrap her arms around his body, resting her head on his shoulder.

‘How was it ruined? I was enjoying it. And I thought you were, too. You did come, didn’t you?’

‘That’s the whole point,’ Draco said bitterly. ‘I have fantasised about this for years and when we finally get to do it I can’t even pleasure you properly. Just a couple of quick thrusts and already I’m coming.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Hermione told him gently. ‘If anything it was good that it was a little quick the first time. It was all getting a bit much for me.’ She kissed Draco on the cheek. ‘Come back to bed and give me a cuddle, please? I really want you to hold me.’

For a moment Hermione thought Draco would refuse, his bruised ego stopping him, but after a short pause he joined her back on the bed, wrapping his arms around her as he kissed her forehead.

‘I’m so sorry, my love,’ he said after they had cuddled for a few minutes.

‘Nothing to be sorry about,’ Hermione assured him.

‘But I can’t believe I had premature ejaculation,’ Draco said unhappily. ‘That has never happened to me before. It’s so embarrassing.’

‘No need to be embarrassed,’ Hermione said comfortingly. ‘I’m flattered that you were so excited. Oh, and by the way, you are definitely more than big enough.’

‘Next time,’ Draco said as he kissed her.

‘Next time you will probably go on for hours,’ Hermione said, smiling.

‘Hmmm. I’m not sure about hours, but it should at least last a bit longer,’ Draco said. ‘Hopefully long enough to make you come this time.’

‘I already came earlier,’ Hermione reminded him. ‘So we’re even now.’

‘If you go on top you can control it,’ Draco told her. ‘Go at your pace, although that might not help me.’

He gave a small hiss as Hermione reached out to grasp his now flaccid penis and began to stroke it the way he had shown her earlier.

‘Better get you hard again, then,’ Hermione said. ‘Hopefully, we will just have time to do it again before dinner.’

The second time went much better. Draco’s excitement had dimmed since he had already experienced the wonderful feeling of being inside Hermione and had already come — although he thoroughly appreciated it the second time, too, especially when Hermione did as he suggested, taking control and going on top to ride him at her own pace, leaving him free to play with her wonderful breasts once more. And she, too, had enjoyed it, enjoying being on top, although he felt even bigger that way. But as her climax approached she slowed down, the feeling almost too much to bear. Draco took over then, rolling her onto her back, still inside her as they moved. As he pushed deep inside her again and again, Hermione experienced the climax he had denied her the first time. She clung to him, crying and whimpering and calling out his name, so clearly enjoying what he was doing to her that combined with her contractions that were squeezing him hard, he, too, came for the second time.

Hermione smiled as she stroked Draco’s face. ‘Thank you, Draco,’ she said honestly. ‘That really was completely wonderful.’

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione opened her eyes, trying to work out where she was. She heard Draco’s quiet breathing next to her ear and she turned her head to look at him. He was even more handsome when he was asleep, his beautiful pale face so relaxed. He was smiling and every so often his lips moved silently as if he were talking to someone. Hermione smiled too. She needed to move, just to stretch her bones, but Draco’s arms were wrapped around her waist. She wriggled a little and felt his arms give slightly so she pushed them apart and slid out of the bed to make her way across the room to the bathroom.

She was quite tender, she realised. Draco hadn’t quite fucked her to the point where she couldn’t walk, but he’d had a pretty good go. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was smiling. No, that wasn’t quite right: she was smirking, self-satisfied and smug, and she felt great. Her hair was still a mess, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that without permanently dowsing herself in Sleakeasy’s hair tonic and Draco hadn’t seemed to be all that bothered about it so it probably wasn’t necessary. She noticed she was now sporting several love bites although fortunately, none appeared to be in a place that would be seen once she was dressed in her school robes. Having finished drying her hands she returned to the bedroom and got back into bed, reinserting herself into her husband’s arms. He murmured louder for a moment and pulled her tighter, and before she fell asleep once more Hermione realised she felt happier and more relaxed than she had ever been before in her life.

Morning brought another bout of lovemaking, this time in the shower where the different positions caused Hermione to experience a whole new range of feelings. By the time she and Draco had dressed, a slow process due to Draco’s need to keep touching her, Hermione knew that whilst she still didn’t love him — her heart wasn’t that fickle — she had very much enjoyed making love to him and would continue to do so for as long as he wanted her. And she was sure that one day she would love him just as passionately as he loved her.

They walked to breakfast holding hands, something Hermione would never have imagined doing even forty-eight hours before, but everything had changed now. She was Draco’s wife, and as she had told him she intended to take the role seriously; if he wanted to hold her hand or kiss her in public, she would bear it with a smile.

Just inside the door to the Great Hall, Draco dropped Hermione’s hand.

‘I'll see you after breakfast, my love,’ he said. He kissed her tenderly on the lips, then released her. ‘Make sure you eat something today,’ he added a little more seriously, then turned away to sit at the Slytherin table.

Hermione made her way over to the Gryffindor table, where she sat down next to a group of younger girls who were chattering busily and laughing. As she poured herself a cup of tea and a glass of pumpkin juice she tuned into their conversation, smiling to herself as she realised they were talking about Draco. He was obviously still very popular with a lot of the girls in school. She put two slices of toast on her plate, then, having buttered them, added some scrambled egg.  She turned to the girl next to her.

‘Can you pass me the ketchup, please?’ she asked.

The girl gave her friends a look, then picked up the ketchup and passed it to Hermione. ‘Is that your boyfriend over there?’ she asked boldly. ‘Draco Malfoy. He’s very handsome.’

Hermione smiled. ‘Actually, he’s my husband.’ She looked across at Draco, who was looking back at her. He winked and the girls around her started giggling again.

‘Your husband,’ the girl next to her said, her voice holding a mixture of awe and disappointment, ‘he's really cool and very handsome. You’re so lucky.’

‘Yes, he really is kind of wonderful,’ Hermione said with a smile, and still looking across the room at Draco, she picked up her teacup and began to drink.


End file.
